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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 3 years

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i had a craving for some warm apple cider and it reminded me of etrry. he would fuck that shit up omg omg christian girl fall is totally alienrry he would love going to the apple orchards and shit

The first time he tries a pumpkin spice latte, his feedback makes Y/N’s stomach flutter with endearment.

Harry smack his lips as he savors the spices and cozy notes in the drink, furrowing his brows in thought as he picks through all of the different emotions the taste produces. After a moment, his entire body relaxes, and a homey smile makes its way across his dimpled cheeks. “It tastes the way a warm hug feels.”

Y/N’s lips twitch as she sips from her own drink, letting his interpretation sink in. He’s recently taken to relating flavors to feelings and experiences, and the analogies he conjures up always amuse her to no end. “That was pretty poetic of you.”

Harry simpers over the brim of the coffee cup, hugging it with both hands as indulges another gulp. “Thank you, I think.”

She can’t help but notice how big his hands are— how they easily dwarf the paper mug, and how pretty his nails look covered in sage green polish (she’d painted them that color for the sake of irony, and he’d thought the joke was hilarious). The more she dwells on every detail of his hands— the veins that chisel over the back as he tightens his hold, or the length of his nimble fingers, or the small alien hieroglyphic tattoo along the area between his index finger and thumb— the more her thoughts derail towards the graphic end of the spectrum. Specifically, how he’d had those same hands all over her body the night prior.

How they had been tangled in her hair as they stumbled towards her room blindly, too lost in the sensation of each other’s lips to give anything else much attention. How his hands had felt as they hurriedly coasted down her chest and along the bottom of her sweatshirt, pulling it off in one swift motion so he could taste every inch of her skin, his tongue leaving a sweltering heat along her cleavage. How they had gripped her knees and spread them open as he situated himself onto his stomach on the mattress, a faint white cast sheathing his irises as he’d seen the way she was already dripping in anticipation. How his palms had held her down to the bed as he’d bobbed his head between her thighs, his tongue lapping at her sloppily as he’d moaned into her clit, the sound wet and guttural as his back muscles visibly tightened while she’d tugged at his curls and scratched at his scalp. How one hand had grasped her hip desperately as the other wrapped around her throat, its first two fingers weighing on her tongue as she’d sucked on them feverishly, wisps of his name escaping her throat as he’d pounded raw pleasure into the pit of her tummy. How he’d whimpered and gasped into her ear as his nails dug memories into the skin of her waist, and how she’d caught a glimpse of his fingerprints this morning in the mirror, dusted across her flesh in the form of bruises.

Harry’s voice yanks the girl out of her head. “What are you drinking?”

Y/N isn’t really one to crave coffee during the afternoon, so she’d picked up a bottle of rosé on the way home from grocery shopping, right before going to the drive-through at the nearest Starbucks to get him his beverage. He’d seen a commercial for it on TV the other day, and had expressed his interest for it during breakfast as she’d shoveled scrambled eggs onto a plate while he cut up a green apple across the kitchen island, popping a slice into his mouth while neatly organizing the others along his circular platter. And how could she say no to him, especially when he’d been standing there with such a hopeful look in those olive green puppy eyes, his cheeks puffed out with fruit and her teeth marked all over his neck and chest.

“It’s, uhm—” She clears her throat roughly, expelling the image of Harry’s toned stomach and thick happy trail from her brain. She snaps her gaze up to meet his, and the blissfully unaware innocence behind his tone and over his features makes blood rush to her cheeks. “It’s rosé.”

Harry sets down his cup carefully on her coffee table, shifting further back onto the couch and slouching into the cushions, his legs spreading open casually as he settles in. “That’s a type of alcohol, correct?”

Y/N glances down at his thighs momentarily, where his mesh shorts are riding up dangerously high. “Yep.”

If he notices, he doesn’t to show it, seen in how his accent maintains the same nonchalant curiosity as before. He throws an arm around her shoulders easily, scooting his body closer to her own across the sofa. He’s gotten way touchier since they started sleeping together, and she can’t say she doesn’t like it. She likes it more than she should, probably.

“The same liquid in those spiked ciders you got me last time? The sour one that incapacitates you?”

Y/N scoffs lightly at his accurate description, willingly leaning into his torso and folding her legs up under herself as she props her wine glass on her knee. “Mmhm. But that only happened because you drank the entire pack like a moron, remember?”

Harry rolls his eyes at her chastising tone and flat expression. “How was I supposed to know?”

“Maybe you should have asked me before randomly drinking things from that shelf in the fridge.”

“You were in the shower.”

“You could have waited.”

“I was thirsty.”

“There’s a water filter at the sink.”

“I wanted juice.”

“There was grape juice beside the milk.”

“I wanted apple and the bottles had pictures of them on the label. My apologies for using my practical thinking skills and measures of deduction.”

Y/N sighs in good-natured exasperation, shoving him with her shoulder as revenge for his snarky comebacks. “Well, look where your practical thinking skills and measures of deduction got you— bent over the toilet bowl with puke shooting out of your nostrils. Now you know that anything with the word, ‘alcohol’ on it needs to be taken in moderation. Right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good.” The young woman takes a sip from her glass, savoring it patiently as the sweet and tangy flavor filters through her taste buds. “Lesson learned, then.”

“Unfortunately.” The alien deadpans, pinching along the underside of her underarm just to feel her squirm and squeak. He smiles childishly at her reaction, giggling as she curses at him under her breath.

“You almost made me spill my drink.” She grumbles, getting comfortable once more against his warm body. “And this is the good stuff, too. I’d break the bottle over your head.”

“A bit rash, I think.” Harry snorts sarcastically, eyeing the pink moscato for a moment as it swishes inside her chilled cup, her fingers leaving smudges in the condensation. He then lilts his gaze back towards her own, his tone soft and full of wonder. “Can I try?”

“Promise not to throw up all over my floor again?” The girl quips tauntingly, jutting her chin towards her rug symbolically.

Harry exhales in surrendered embarrassment, lifting his hand and hooking their pinkies together. “Pinky swear.”

Y/N nods her head in the agreement, fending off a fond grin as she lifts the glass to his plush, rosy lips. “Go ahead, then, Area 51.”

The alien snorts softly at the nickname, well aware of its origins now that he’s learned more about Earth’s relationship with extraterrestrial components. Those documentaries on the Discovery Channel are quite educational.

Harry sifts his mouth over the rim of the glass, making eye contact with Y/N to let her know he’s ready for her to pour the drink in. She tilts the wine, watching it funnel past his lips to gauge how much is an adequate amount. She pulls back, observing as he nurses the liquid pensively, his brows creasing like before as he distinguishes all the different flavors present. He smacks his lips again, blinking slowly as he forms his opinion, licking at a drop that had escaped the corner of his mouth.

“So?” Y/N inquires, raising an eyebrow expectantly. “What’s it taste like?”

Harry cranes his sight over to her, the studious expression on his face melting into one of slight smugness, as if what he’s about to say is something amusing. The left edge of his mouth jolts upwards, a sly smirk carving its way across his face as he presses his tongue along the inside of his cheek almost arrogantly, his eyes raking down her body in an objectifying once-over. His descent stops at her clasped thighs, which he focuses on for a few seconds longer than she deems acceptable, and then his gaze travels back up to lock with her own. There’s now a different type of darkness to the jade swirling around his pupils, electrified by something he has yet to express to her fully, but seems excited to do so.

The young man leans forward, and Y/N almost falls back at the sudden closeness of their proximity. He ghosts his lips over the curve of her jaw and across the slope of her cheekbone, stopping at the shell of her ear as if he wants to share a secret. He drags his pillowy lips over the area with every intention to rile her up, his skin cool and damp from the beverage, but unbelievably warm beneath the initial shock of that caveat. His breath carries the same juxtaposing sensations— it’s cold on impact, but heats up the farther it travels across the side of her face and down to the pulse in her neck. His words are low and heavy, but sultry and smooth like the wine they’d shared; a seductive whisper that intoxicates her in a fiery manner that no amount of alcohol ever could.

“It tastes like sex. It tastes the way you do between your thighs, and it feels the way you feel when I’m buried between your legs. And if I close my eyes and savor it, I can taste you whining my name into my mouth, and I can taste you begging for it on my tongue.”

#alienrry #enjoy <3

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giftofwonder · 3 years

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The Tomb (Dabi x f!Reader) Part 1

A/N: So i watched a documentary on ancient Egypt and this happened. I’d love feedback, as I haven’t really posted any fanfics before. Please let me know what you think! This part doesn’t really have any NSFW, but does mention nudity, but other parts will be NSFW.

WARNINGS: contains brief mention of nudity.

You wandered through the tomb, alone and determined. Night had fallen, but your time left here was short. Soon the grant would end, and your funding would be stopped unless you and your team found something soon.

You needed to make a discovery here, and fast. Everyone else had went home to recover from the long day of work, but you were still giddy and restless.

A week prior, your team had discovered the entrance of the tomb. Cheers of joy had erupted from everyone, hoping whatever was inside would be enough for the government to give you just a bit more time and money. A bit longer to work.

You were an archeologist, a decent one too. You had made your share of finds, some small and some bigger, but it didn’t matter to you. The thrill of being the first person to touch something, sometimes after thousands of years, was always worth it. Even if your name was never known, the smallest of finds still spurred you on. It was the history, the knowledge. Like a puzzle where you got to find and place all of the pieces, trying to decipher the past.

That was why you were exploring by yourself at 3 in the morning. One hand held your flashlight, the other gently traced along the sandstone walls. Some areas needed cleaned, dirt and sand piled in over the years, making text and images harder to see.

This tomb was different, you noted. The layout was much larger than what you had come across before. At the entrance, the tomb opened to what looked like a hall. The walls decorated with text, sculptures and scenes.

You could tell a lot about someone from their tomb. The text and images often explained a bit about them, once translated. The statues were so the Gods could recognize who’s tomb it was, so there was no mistake in the afterlife. Sometimes it could reflect an ego as well, if there were many. The scenes are what they would take with them into the afterlife.

This tomb had only one name mentioned. It was carved into every wall countless times. There was only one image, one man, shown. That was the first strange thing you had noted. Normally, family was mentioned and depicted, but this tomb was only him. You were lead to believe that he was alone with no family, which was a bit uncommon, but not unheard of.

The other strange thing is normally tombs were for people who were very great, people to be remembered. A tomb was a lot of effort, and given to those with power, money, or who were found deserving or worthy of a great afterlife. Yet in this tomb, the depictions and what you had translated led you to have more questions than answers.

Who was Dabi?

It mentions him cast aside while young, hurt and sad. His family is not mentioned by name nor shown in images, but you assume they must have played a hand in it.

It leads to him, growing older and becoming powerful. He is feared, but he is not respected. There is some type of group mentioned that he was apart of. A league. They wanted to change society, to walk with the Gods, and to get revenge.

There were a few statues of him carved along the walls. You had stared at them, tracing his features into your mind over and over, hoping to burn an imprint so that they may last forever.

There was only one chamber in the tomb. Usually, there were a few. They were used for family burials, sometimes offerings of what they can take to the afterlife with them. But this tomb only has one. Your team had dug it out during the week, clearing to the bottom, and you had found that it hollowed into another room. The ladder had been left in place, so you had taken tools and climbed down. Now you were exploring the chamber below.

You were the first to enter after probably four thousand years. You saw depictions of gods, the God of Fire, the God of War, and the God of Revenge. From what you could see, Dabi was a man who was bitter, so the question still plagued you...why give him a tomb?

As you walked, you noticed inscriptions talking about beasts of men. Of Godly power and destruction. Of hatred and evil.

The walls had squares carved into them, like a false window, the ledges decorated with images and text you couldn’t quite make out.

You brought your brush and tried to clear it, but the language was unfamiliar. This area was different than the rest of the tomb. Even the energy inside felt suffocating and dark.

You took a sip of water and went deeper.

At the back of the chamber, was a sculpture, a false door. It allowed the dead to go between the afterlife and their tomb, a portal between worlds.

Scenes were depicted around the false door,

The only thing written that you could translate was “I will be amongst the judges.”

The ancients believed that when you past, you would be judged. Your heart would be weighed, and it would decide your fate in the afterlife. If it was balanced, the gods would grant you an enjoyable afterlife. If not, you could be fed to a demon or thrown into a lake of fire.

To place himself with the judges means he has a hand in deciding his fate.

You took note of his statue in the false door. You could tell it was the same man, the features were the same, but it was different. You couldn’t tell what covered him, but there were perhaps bindings around his arms and legs, and on his face as well.

You studied it for a moment before you heard the sounds of movement behind you. You turned quickly, looked back through the tomb, seeing nothing.

Your heart raced and the air felt hotter. Your flashlight danced around the chamber until you were sure there was nothing, and then you turned back to the statue.

The same markings were around it that were on the cut outs in the wall. Your brow furrowed in frustration as your fingers trailed across them.

“Just who are you?” You questioned aloud.

“Dabi.” A deep whisper came from behind. You gasp and turned quickly, seeing nothing at the end of your flashlight, but convinced you could see movement in the shadows surrounding. You took a few steps forward.

“Hello?” You called out, hoping someone from your team had just come to check on you, perhaps playing a joke.

Your voice echoed, but no answer came. Your breath came out heavy, worry brewing in your stomach. Churning. The feeling of needing to leave was growing, as were your fears. You could feel that you were not supposed to be here. You took another step, but heard the movement again, directly behind you.

You turned quickly and froze. The figure was watching you. He stood, back against the wall, right in front of the false door. You took a few steps back, your flashlight moving toward him when his voice came out harsh.

“Don’t.”

You held still. In the dim light, you could see him still. Ink black hair, pale skin that met purple scars. His ears were decorated with piercing as was his nose. He wore a white knee-length linen kilt, that was pleated and belted. It was decorated with gold thread, and a bit of bead work.

He wore chunky gold jewelry that had lapis lazuli and turquoise within it, a necklace, cuff bracelets on his wrists and ankles. His upper arm help a gold band around it. His bare feet held firm on the ground below.

“Who are you?” You asked, your voice cracking.

“You already know that.” He smirked, his blue eyes still vibrant even in the dim light.

“Dabi.” You said, feeling a shudder run through you.

He grinned and took a step toward you, and though you wanted to step back, you were frozen in place by fear.

He stopped directly in front of you, toe to toe. He stared down at you, amusement reflecting in his eyes.

“It’s rude to enter ones tomb without an offering.” He said, his voice holding a slight rasp. His hand lifted to your neck, and your blood ran cold as you felt his hand on your skin.

“This will do.” He said with a sneer as he ripped the chain from your neck. You gasped as your hand flew to your throat, your eyes wide with fear.

“Why have you come?” He asked a few moments later when you remained frozen and silent.

“To...to learn.” You whispered.

“Learn?” He questioned, leering at you.

“To understand. To learn about you. Your tomb has been buried, we found it.” You whispered again.

“Is that so.” He said, his voice low as his hand reached out again. You flinched as it cupped you’re cheek, his fingers gently rubbing across your skin.

“What do you want to know?” He asked, his eyes meeting your gaze and holding them there.

“Everything.” You breathed out. You were frightened and overwhelmed, unsure if maybe you had hit your head on the way down, but even if this might be a dream, you wanted to know more. The quest for knowledge had lead you this far, and he hadn’t killed you yet, so you supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try and get more information. Who better to get it from than the spirit the tomb belongs to.

“Fine. But not here. You will follow me.” He said, and turned back to the wall. He held his hand out to you, and you felt compelled to take it. He pulled you behind him, leading you closer to the false door.

“Wait! I can’t go through, that’s your portal. The living cannot go between worlds.” You said, tugging back on your hand, though his grip didn’t loosen. He pulled you forward once more, through the portal.

Once on the other side, he glanced at you with a grin.

“Someone owed me a favor.” Was his only explanation.

You took in your surroundings. You were in the tomb still, everything looked the same.

“Did we really pass through?” You wondered.

“We did. Come on.” He said and began to walk forward. You followed, not wanting to get left behind, and you were sure that the portal would not allow you through without him.

He led you up and out of the tomb, and finally it sunk in that you were not in your world anymore.

Looking out, where you had always saw desert and some excavation sites, there were buildings and tombs lining, not yet touched by time. Where highways had met city, now there was just trees and sand.

“Get on.” Dabi’s voice called behind you, and you found him atop a camel. He pulled you up onto his lap and you began your journey.

Eventually, you found yourself at a wall, near the entrance to the city. Dabi hopped down and helped you off, then guided you into the city.

People stared at you in awe, but then shrunk back at Dabi’s gaze. Fear in their eyes, you noted, and wondered just what he had done.

You passed markets and shops, homes with families and children playing in the streets.

Everyone was dressed in linen cloths and dresses, it was like you had walked onto a movie set. All of the structures that would be gone when you returned home, standing before you in all of their glory.

You made it to a house, made of mud brick and papyrus, and a limestone gate way. The door to the house was pushed aside and Dabi let you step in first.

It was small, and fairly empty. Two rooms that you could see, the first you had just entered was a living room of sorts. A small wooden table with reed mats and pillows around it. The other a bedroom with a mattress on the floor and woven baskets holding Dabi’s possessions. Small windows were cut out and covered by reed mats. There was a bit of pottery here and there as well.

There was another doorway covered by a hanging reed mat, much like the front of the house, and you assumed it led to the outdoor kitchen area.

There were stairs, one set leading down to the bottom level where crops were usually kept, the other leading up to the roof.

There was incense burning, giving a nice smell to the home. Dabi took a seat at the small table and you walked over and sat across from him.

You were a bit shocked, honestly. Dabi’s tomb was so large, his clothing decorated so nicely that you had been sure he must have been royalty or some higher ranking official. Yet, his home was common. He had more than average, more than the poorest for this time, but he did not have a lot. However, you bit your tongue. The inscriptions of his power and destruction told you it wouldn’t be wise to insult him, and you figured you would get your answers soon.

Dabi leaned against his hand, elbow resting against the table, as he stared at you. You blinked at him and gave a nervous smile and waited for him to speak.

“So you want to know everything about me.” He sighed, his eyes searching yours. You nodded, the small smile never leading your face.

“Please.” You answered back. He grinned.

“Alright, ill tell you whatever you want to know...for a price.”

Your smile faltered, and you felt the same tension as you had felt in the tomb.

“What do you want?” You asked wearily.

“I will ask you for two things. One now, and the other before I return you to the world of the living. If you agree to the first, I’ll tell you anything you want to know. But once I tell you, you must do the second thing I ask.” His eyes held a look of mischief.

You swallowed thickly, weighing your options in your mind.

“What is the first thing?” You asked cautiously.

“You’ll stay here with me for two weeks.” He said.

“I can’t! We don’t have much time left, if I don’t get back by the morning, they won’t continue the dig. My men need this, otherwise they will be out of work.” You plead.

“Don’t worry, doll. Time here is...different. When you go back, it will be as if no time has past at all. Time only ticks forward when you are inside the tomb, since that is where it connects to your world.” He said leaning forward.

“What would you have me do while I was here?” You asked, biting your lip.

“I was thinking, I wouldn’t mind getting some information from you, too. You’ll have plenty of time to ask anything you want, I’ll take you into the city and let you explore even. Plus, the afterlife can be lonely, I wouldn’t mind the company.” He winked and you felt your face flush.

“Well, I don’t know about that last part,” you started with a mumble, “but I suppose, I can agree to that...but I want to know the nature of the second request.” You asked, looking at him sternly.

He lifted his hands in defeat,

“It’s not much, in fact, I just want you to find something for me and bring it back to the tomb once you’re back in your world.” He said with a shrug.

You thought it over, this was a gift, really. You have spent your life looking at the past, trying to figure it out, and now you could live it for a few weeks. See things first hand and hear the stories told from the spirits themselves.

“Okay. I’ll do it.” You said with a nod. Dabi grinned, in a way that made your skin crawl, and you wondered if you had made the wrong choice.

“Perfect. Tell you what, we’ll start with your questions over dinner. How about that?” He asked, and you gave a smile and nodded your approval.

“By the way,” he asked, “what is your name?”

“(Y/N)” you answered.

“Alright, (Y/N), just give me a few minutes. I need to grab something. In the meantime, make yourself at home.” He said as he stood and left through the front door.

You waited, but after ten minutes had passed, you stood and went to snoop through his bedroom. Woven baskets lined the walls of the room, filled with clothing and bindings, thin blankets, trinkets and some jewelry (though nowhere near as extravagant as what he wore).

You pulled off your jacket and placed it inside of an empty basket, along with your socks and shoes. You let down your hair that had been pulled up into a ponytail, and leaned back on the mattress. To say it was comfortable would be a lie, and you found yourself missing your bed back home.

The heat of the room lulled you to sleep.

You were pulled from your dreams at the feeling of a warm hand caressing your side. Fingers trailed across the skin of your stomach and up to your ribs, pulling the material of your shirt higher as they danced across you.

You sighed, content, as your eyes slowly fluttered open. Then you jumped up as you saw Dabi kneeling beside you, eyes focused on your body as his hand traced your skin.

“What are you doing?” You snapped at him, blushing as you pulled your shirt back down. Dabi pulled his hand back and crawled closer, his breath fanning against your lips.

“Dinner is ready, and I brought you a gift.” And with that, he pulled back and left the room. You were flustered as you pulled yourself up and rushed to follow. In the sitting room, he held a basket out to you that was filled with cotton fabric.

You took it and inspected it with awe.

“You looked out of place.” He said as an explanation, but you were too excited, smiling at him and holding the basket close to you.

“Thank you! Can I go and put it on now?” You asked eagerly, and he snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, meet me on the roof when you’re done.” He said and walked off to the doorway that led to the kitchen.

You went back into the bedroom and through the door that led to the bathroom. There was no shower, there was only a toilet, a foot bath, and a jug filled with water for hand washing.

You found a stack of clean linen cloths in a basket to the side and wet one with the water from the jug so that you could rinse yourself off.

You pulled a skirt and a sash from the basket. The dress was white with gold threading, much like what Dabi wore. Quickly, you undressed and washed yourself off before you pulled on the skirt. It went from your just below your ankle up to just below your breast, and it had a bit of pleating. You used the sash to tie it in place. The sash was decorated with beautiful blue beading.

Next, you pulled a sheer shawl and wide collar from the basket. You draped the shawl around you so that it covered your breasts, and placed the collar on top. The collar was decorated with more of the blue beading, as well as the same gems Dabi had set in his jewelry.

There were a few gold bangles in the basket as well which you slipped onto your arms.

You still had another four or five dresses and skirts inside of the basket, which you had glanced at, and they were all equally beautiful.

You had looked at garments like these your whole life, but never did you imagine you would be inside of one.

You took the basket and your clothing back into the bedroom and then made your way up to the roof.

Dabi had the food laid out and was sitting on a pillow, waiting for you. When he heard you approaching, he looked you over and grinned, though he stayed silent.

“Well, how do I look?” You asked, beaming.

“Beautiful, doll. But you might want to take a seat before the food gets cold.” He smirked.

You made your way over and sat to eat. You had wine with your dinner, which Dabi was happy to supply you with.

He asked questions first, of the world, his tomb, what you did, how the times had changed. You answered them all, happy to fill him in.

Dabi’s tomb had felt so dark, but here sitting with him, he wasn’t so bad, you decided. He was sarcastic and snarky, but charming in his own way. You still wondered about the elaborate dressing you were both wearing, and why his home didn’t match, but you left those thoughts for later. Soon the food was finished, the wine jug was empty, and Dabi lead your drunken self back into the house and to the bedroom.

“In the morning, Well go to the bathhouse.” He said, pulling off his jewelry and setting them inside a basket. You hummed and did the same, reaching for your basket to find a simple tunic to wear to bed.

Dabi grabbed the blanket off of the mattress and threw it over him as he laid down. You stood to go to the bathroom to change but stumbled trying to get up. Dabi laughed at you as he watched your failed attempt to stand, making jabs at you under his breath when you had instantly plopped back down onto the mattress. He sat up behind you as you huffed, his hands reaching around you to untie your sash and skirt. The collar and shawl had already been discarded, but with the alcohol flowing in your system, you found it hard to remember exactly when that had happened. Your skirt pooled under you as the cold night air danced on your skin. Dabi was warm against your back, and you relaxed into him subconsciously.

He lifted you up enough to pull the fabric out from beneath you and tossed it to the corner of the room. The tunic laying forgotten at your feet as he pulled you back into the bed to lay beside him. The blanket was thrown over you and Dabi’s arms held you close to him. You relaxed into him and fell asleep quickly. __________________________________________

You glanced up at him to find him still asleep, so you allowed yourself to take in his features. He was attractive, and his presence screamed power, though you had yet to see him display it.

Your hand slowly lifted so you could gently trail your fingers across the soft skin of his cheek to the scarring on his jaw. His eyes flew open as his hand quickly snatched yours, pulling it from his face. His eyes were wild, until he registered that it was only you, and you saw him visibly relax. He breathed out a sigh and leaned back, the hand on your back rubbing small circles. The early morning was still fairly cool, and you felt yourself being pulled in by the heat that radiated from him. Soon your cheek was back onto his chest.

“It’s strange, you have a heartbeat even though you’ve died.” You said.

“I’ll live forever here. When I died, it just took me to the next place.” He said with a shrug.

“How did you die?” You asked quietly.

“That’s the end of the story, how about after we bathe I start from the beginning instead.”

You sighed, but nodded, lifting yourself up. The blanket fell and you noticed your nudity and quickly pulled the blanket back up to your chest.

Dabi regarded you with both confusion and amusement.

“What are you doing, doll?” He asked with a light chuckle.

“Covering up, what does it look like?” You spat back flustered.

He laughed, then raised himself up and climbed off the mattress, much less embarrassed by his state of undress.

“So what, do you just pull girls to the afterlife and woo them to bed with you?” You mumbled, picking up your discarded dress from the night before.

“No, it would seem that you’re the first.” He laughed.

#dabi x y/n #dabi my hero academia #bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #dabi #dabi au #dabi boku no hero academia #dabi fanfic #dabi is touya #dabi is a todoroki #dabi league of villains #dabi smut #dabi x you #dabi x female reader #The Tomb (Dabi x f!Reader)

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yourneighborhooddisaster · 3 years

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Ravenous

Touch Starved Patton! I haven’t actually written stuff like this before, and I guess it could be read shippy, but it can also be read completely platonic. I would say warnings, sympathetic janus and remus, but they’re blessings.

Warnings: touch starvation, angst, hurt/comfort (kinda), not everybody really gets along but that’s okay

Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated!!! Reblogs are cherished!! Also I’m just really excited I was able to stick to a deadline!

Fic under the cut. Please ask to be tagged! I’d be honored. Also you are always able to be removed from the taglist if you read something you don’t like or is triggering!!! I won’t be offended!

@genderfluidmoma @emiisanxious (that’s what you meant right? if not sorry)

All of the sides had needs.

They weren’t people. They were fully aware that they were all a fraction of a person, and they all cared for Thomas very much. They didn’t envy being a person, especially through all the wild stuff that was going on in the world right now. Technically, the sides didn’t need to eat, or sleep, even though it was possible for them to do so, as long as it was imagination food or during the night when Thomas was already asleep. But they did have needs.

Everyone was fully aware of Roman’s needs. Stimuli. Some sort of creative fuel. Even watching a documentary with Logan and Thomas could help him if he was in a particularly bad block. That’s part of the reason he loved Disney so much, and Patton always made sure they had time to watch a cartoon before bed when Roman was feeling down.

Logan’s primary need was obvious, although he hated to admit that he needed things, insisting it was to help Thomas. It did help Thomas, but not as much as it helped Logan. Logan needed structure and rules. It made a lot of sense. So sometimes when Patton noticed Logan’s smiles becoming tight, or when Patton felt he might not be listening to him enough, he would grin and ask what was on the schedule for that day.

Virgil was under a lot of stress lately, and that was because, as much as a lot of social interaction could overwhelm him, Virgil needed positive interactions with Thomas’s friends. Patton suspected that the sides may also be in that category, but he didn’t quite know, so he didn’t want to assume. He would often bug Thomas to call or text Joan, knowing Virgil wasn’t the best at bringing his own issues up.

Janus was tricky. Patton’s first instinct would be that Janus needed Thomas to take care of himself, but they all needed that, and Janus hadn’t seemed to suffer more than the others when Thomas missed the callback. Patton didn’t know Janus too well, but he knew him enough to finally understand that he was a little like Logan. Janus needed to be listened to. So if Roman and Janus had fought and Janus was sulking, Patton would insist that Janus pick a movie to watch with him. (And if Roman slunk out to watch Hamilton with them, well, two birds with one stone, right?)

Remus should have been a difficult one, and Patton would never admit that he had known right away. But Remus was simple. Patton didn’t really understand Remus’s thought process, and he probably never would, at least not all the way. But Patton understood Roman’s, and he wasn’t oblivious, no matter how much he was portrayed that way. Remus needed attention. He needed time, he needed the sides, he needed Thomas, and most of all, he needed to talk. So when Patton was up for it (and even sometimes when he really wasn’t), he would invite Remus to bake with him, as it was something they both, surprisingly, enjoyed, and something they both, unsurprisingly, were terrible at.

All of the sides had needs.

Patton wished he didn’t.

His was simple. Predictable. Expected, even. But it was just… so embarrassing. Because Patton needed physical touch, and didn’t that sound clingy and awful. Of course he could try to play it off, and he did. He was just happy pappy Patton, soft cuddly Patton, just your Dad Patton trying to give you a hug, kiddo! He felt so guilty all the time. And it hurt even more now that he was trying not to repress his negative emotions, because when he did admit he was feeling sad, everyone treated him as if he was made of glass. He dreaded when they asked him if he wanted to be alone, because no, he absolutely did NOT. And he says yes anyway. He wants to be normal, so why wouldn’t he? He knew none of the other sides wanted - needed this. It was okay though. He could always get in at least a hug or a high five in a day.

Until now.

Patton slumped against his door. He hadn’t been touched all day. He was frighteningly cold, but he didn’t want to go get a blanket. He had lent all of his to Virgil after he had a panic attack, and he wasn’t going to ask for them back. He wasn’t heartless.

“Thanks Pat, but… could I please be alone for a while?” The words rang in his ears, nearly deafening, though their speaker was quiet and polite. And Virgil was being polite, he had phrased it in the kindest way possible. It was just something wrong with Patton. He shook his head, tears finally rolling down his cheeks. He put on his hoodie to help with the cold, but it didn’t help with the hunger clawing right below his skin. Logan was reading, Roman was editing a video with Thomas, Remus would probably just make him feel worse. And he didn’t want Janus to sense all the lies he’d been telling. The most accessible of the sides was Logan, but Logan would hardly appreciate the interruption, especially as Patton wouldn’t be able to explain exactly why he was interrupting.

He was going to have a long night.

>><<

Patton hummed softly as he flipped some pancakes. He had managed not to burn them this time, even though the shapes were not really circles. Pancakes were easy. At least, he was better at making pancakes than anything else.

Logan’s better at it though.

Patton shook away the thought. It made sense that Logan would be better at something as adult and precise as cooking. Baking was where Logan was in need of help. Measurements usually fluctuated more in baking. Though Patton wasn’t really good at that either. He was usually a disaster in the kitchen, probably because he represented Thomas’s inner child, which was why he wasn’t offended when Logan declined the offer of pancakes, instead going to the commons to help Thomas schedule the day. Well, maybe a little offended. But not much. Logan had been under stress lately too, as quarantine tended to blur all the days together. So Patton dug into his pancakes himself, covering up all potential mistakes by drowning it in cheap quality maple syrup.

“Ooh, did you make pancakes, Patty-cake?” Remus all but bounced into the room. Patton put on a wide beam and nodded. Remus was still wearing his pajama pants and was shirtless, though he was definitely a morning person, so it was likely he’d already been up for a few hours. “I want some!” Patton laughed at that, pointing at a plate right next to the stove.

“The hot ones are over there, and make sure to tell me if you want anymore. If we do end up making more though, you’re on egg duty.” Remus half pouted, even as he shoveled pancakes onto his plate.

“But I like it when you get the shells in. It makes it crunchy.” Patton huffed, pretending to be offended. “Oh come on Patton, you know I compli-meant it!” Patton stifled a giggle, though a little unsuccessfully.

“Oh, that was bad even for me…” Remus shrugged, utterly unashamed. A lock of hair fell into Patton’s face, and he instinctively brushed it away, not really noticing his sticky fingers making a shiny trail up his cheek.

But he noticed when his fingers were replaced by something else.

Patton froze, his face hotter than the pan on the stove. (He should turn that off, his brain registered dumbly, but he was too much in shock to care if the mindscape could burn down.) Remus was clearly satisfied, grossly swirling his sticky sweet spit in his mouth. Tears pricked at Patton’s eyes, and he knew he was being stupid. Remus was lewd and touchy with everyone. He wasn’t special, and Remus certainly didn’t need this like he did. Remus just loved to be loud and obnoxious and throw everyone off.

Then why’d it feel so intimate and wonderful?

Why would he want such a gross touch?

“What’s got you so nervous Mr. Moral Compass?” Remus was watching him with a self satisfied smirk. “Did I do something to upset you?” That should have been reassuring, that Remus was happy and just his normal self. If everyone was happy, Patton would be happy, because he had no reason to be sad. No reason at all…

Patton broke out into loud ugly sobs. Crumpling to the floor, he was vaguely aware of Remus panicking, and no, he really didn’t want to burden him, and it just became worse when more people ran into the room. He couldn’t hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears, and blurry tears distorted his vision and fogged up his glasses, which were slowly sliding off his nose. But then two hands gently grabbed his wrists, and they didn’t let go, and his wrists were burning but all he could think was more, more, more. And then a hand landed on his shoulder, but it was much too hesitant. Another hand over his heart, and that seemed to do it ever so slowly. The tears stopped and his breathing slowed.

But he may have preferred the rush of blood in his ears to the stressed silence. He made a move to wipe at his eyes only to find his hands still restrained. A blur of yellow - Janus - removed his glasses, cleaned them, and wiped the excess tears away before placing them gently back on his face. He was surrounded by faces, but only Logan and Virgil were touching him, and he felt so, so clingy, because this definitely wasn’t enough even though he should be grateful they were even still touching him. Thomas looked terrified. Patton dropped his head in shame and guilt.

“I’m-”

“Don’t,” Roman replied quickly, already knowing what Patton was about to say. “You have nothing to apologize for. My brother, on the other hand-” “No!” Remus was still looking panicked on the sidelines, and what Roman would’ve said next would have everything even worse. “It’s not his fault, he didn’t do anything.” Patton squirmed, his whole body on fire. Virgil made a move to retract his hand from Patton’s chest. And Patton. WHIMPERED, SO EMBARRASSINGLY LOUD. Virgil froze. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, of course you guys don’t have to touch me if you don’t want-”

“Patton.” Janus spoke calmly and slowly, as if he was trying to understand something. “So the problem is you want people to touch you, and you aren’t getting that attention you need, correct?” Patton nodded, biting his lip bloody so he wouldn’t make such a weak, embarrassing little noise again. All heads swiveled towards Janus, but he simply, albeit hesitantly, took off his gloves and cape and moved closer. Virgil and Roman glared defiantly at him, but one look from Patton and they stepped aside, and Logan gently released his hands, leaving Patton nearly about to cry again about the loss of contact. “I know this normally would be a little… inappropriate, considering our only newfound truce, but…” Janus spread his arms open wide. It was preposterous. Why would Patton hug Janus, even with their agreements? A ridiculous notion. (Now he was starting to sound like Logan.)

Patton jumped into the other’s arms.

He was suffocating, choking on air and new tears but he buried his head into the all encompassing warmth around him. Six arms squeezed him so tight and so close he felt like he was in a vacuum, but he didn’t mind at all. After a few minutes it started to get to be too much, but Patton didn’t want to ever let go at the same time, and he was just so confused. Janus seemed to sense this and he broke away. His hands were still holding Patton’s forearms.

“Hey, you’re not going to feel that bad ever again, okay? We won’t let that happen,” Janus murmured soothingly, and Patton shakily nodded because he didn’t even care if it was all a lie because it was so pretty and it felt so good. “Do you want to hear about what that was or would you rather just come watch a movie?”

“You know?” Janus nodded at Remus.

“Wait, how come you know and I don’t?” Logan was rather flustered and panicked looking. They all were, Patton realized.

“It’s touch starvation. Patton’s been lying to himself about it for a long time. He has a crucial need for physical touch.” Virgil inhaled sharply, and Roman glanced over Patton, but refused to quite meet his eyes. Logan gasped.

“I’m so sorry, Patton.” Patton blinked at the sudden and quick apology from Logan, who always struggled with admitting he was in the wrong. “I didn’t realize that by limiting my physical affection towards you I was harming you in any way. Can I… can I do anything to fix my behavior?” Patton smiled sadly.

“It’s okay Lo, I know you guys don’t really need it like I do. We’re sides, not people. You wouldn’t have assumed I was affected by things like that.”

“What - what did I do?” Remus asked tentatively. “I mean, I know I was being gross and all, but I touched you. I’m a very touchy person. So what happened to make you all snotty?” He immediately winced at his own wording, but Patton knew this was rather gentle for him.

“I just… I guess I couldn’t handle that you were only doing it to get a rise out of me… And it’s kinda started to burn when I get touched because I feel so cold the rest of the time.”

“Overstimulation,” Logan supplied helpfully. Patton nodded, and their conversation lapsed into silence. Then Thomas walked towards Patton, Janus helping him to his feet and guiding him into Thomas’s arms. He was exhausted but even the much looser two armed hug sent his heart and skin and mind spiraling into fireworks. They settled onto the couch.

“We got you, okay Pat? We’ll be more careful from now on.”

And Virgil would just have to trust that Patton understood, because before he replied, Thomas and Patton had fallen fast asleep.

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phoebenavarro · 3 years

Text

rest assured, the night will come

realized I haven’t posted this here! a continuation of my “Jon trusts Tim” s2 AU, but this is first chronologically so reading the other parts isn’t necessary

After the Prentiss attack, Jon finds himself exhausted, in pain, and dreading having to be alone, so that’s how he finds himself outside of Tim’s flat propping himself up on the cane the doctors gave him with two containers of curry takeaway in his free hand. Together, Jon and Tim grapple with the events of the day, and Jon makes a decision on who he can trust.

the magnus archives, jontim, 2500 words

on ao3 here

When Jon finally leaves the Institute, statements taken and pain meds all but worn off, exhausted and bone-weary, the last thing he wants to do is to be alone in his flat. He wants nothing more than to sleep, but even as tired as he is, the nightmares that are sure to come turn him off the concept. His stomach clenches, and he realizes that it’s from hunger, not fear or anxiety or disgust like he’d been assuming since he woke up. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to keep any food down, but he figures he’s got to at least try. And he really doesn’t want to be alone, so that’s how he finds himself outside of Tim’s flat propping himself up on the cane the doctors gave him with two containers of curry takeaway in his free hand.

I should have texted, he thinks, rather belatedly, after he’s knocked on the door.

Tim answers the door after a few moments, and he looks slightly better than he did the last time Jon saw him. Maybe he took a nap. He looks surprised to see Jon.

“Sorry, I should’ve let you know I was coming,” Jon says before Tim gets a chance to say anything, “But I really didn’t want to be alone, so.” He holds up the food. “Curry?”

Tim smiles the first genuine smile Jon’s seen from him since they both woke up in the ECDC tent.

“God, yeah, you read my mind,” Tim says, “Come in.”

Jon’s been to Tim’s flat a few times, so he makes a bee line for the coffee table and sets the food down. A nature documentary of some sort is playing on the TV, volume low. He smiles a bit; Tim always needs his background noise. Jon carefully sits down on the sofa, wincing as the movement pulls on his wounds, and leans the cane against the armrest.

Tim looks at him with concern. “Boss, did you just now leave the Institute?”

“Yes,” Jon sighs. The pain medication has now worn off entirely, he thinks, and his entire body aches. The worst is in his hip, where the worms dug particularly deep. The doctors gave him a prescription for more, but he didn’t think to go pick it up before the pharmacies closed, something he is now seriously regretting.

“Jon,” Tim says, exasperated.

“I know, I know…”

Tim turns on his heel and rummages around in the kitchen, returning with some napkins and a pill bottle, which he holds out to Jon.

“I’m assuming you didn’t get a chance to get these then,” he says, giving the bottle a shake, “Good thing I did, huh?” Jon wordlessly takes the bottle. “Food first, though.”

“Oh! Right,” Jon says, “Thank you, Tim. You’re a life saver.” Tim hums. “Quite literally.”

“Yeah. Guess there are some perks of getting eaten by worms together, huh? Sharing food and drugs.” He stands up. “Want something to drink? Alcohol is a big no no on the medication, otherwise I would be getting wasted.”

“Water’s fine,” Jon says. Tim goes back to the kitchen, and Jon starts unpacking the containers of food. Tim returns with two glasses of water, and they eat mostly in silence, too exhausted for the animated banter they usually share. Jon doesn’t mind, the quiet companionship is comforting, so they just sit and watch the documentary. Jon doesn’t really absorb any of it, but the soothing voice of the narrator is also comforting.

After they finish eating, Tim starts cleaning up, taking the empty containers to the kitchen. Jon takes a moment to read the directions on the pill bottle before taking one, very much looking forward to the pain easing up. Tim returns, settling next to Jon on the couch, sitting close enough that Jon can lean against him. They finish up the documentary, and Jon finally lets himself relax as the pain medication kicks in.

“What now?” Tim asks. Jon shrugs.

“I don’t care. Put on whatever you want.” “Alright,” Tim says, “A comfort movie then.” Jon nods, letting himself zone out while Tim scrolls through menus on the TV. Tim selects something, and Jon rouses himself from his thoughts.

“What are we watching?” Jon asks.

“Stand By Me.”

“Oh, I’ve never seen it.”

“Boss,” Tim sighs, shaking his head in disappointment, but he’s still grinning, “You’ve got to watch more movies. It’s a classic!”

Tim talks throughout the movie, but Jon doesn’t mind, because he has the subtitles on and everything he mentions is related to the movie, little tidbits and trivia. (“It’s based on a short story by Stephen King called The Body, and Stephen King actually saw a friend of his get killed by a train, but he doesn’t remember it because he repressed it so thoroughly,” Tim says. Jon admits he hasn’t read much Stephen King, and he is treated to a mini lecture about how “Stephen King is one of the most prolific authors of our time and you can’t discount him just because he is known for horror.”)

Tim is… remarkably normal, considering the day they had. Jon knows he copes with humor, so it’s not all that surprising, but Jon can’t muster up the energy to pretend to be annoyed by Tim’s quips. His mind keeps wandering back to Gertrude, murdered and then left in the tunnels for months, no one caring enough to truly look for her, not even the police.

That could happen to you, a horrible part of his mind whispers, and he shivers.

“Jon, what’s wrong?” Tim asks, gently, very sincerely, and he pauses the movie, turning to face Jon, “I mean, other than the obvious. I can practically hear you thinking.” Jon hesitates. It’s never been his nature to share his feelings with anyone, not even the people he’s closest with, but as he looks at Tim, at the bandages covering his skin that Jon can’t help but feel responsible for, he finds himself wanting to tell Tim. Tim suffered the worst right along him, he can trust Tim, especially when he’s looking at Jon like he is.

“You heard about Gertrude?” Jon asks quietly.

“Yeah, Martin told me, after I finally got him to stop apologizing for losing us in the tunnels.”

“Did he…” Jon swallows, “Did he tell you how she died?”

“No, but I’m guessing it wasn’t natural causes.”

“She ah, she was shot.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Tim breathes, “Seriously?” Jon nods. “Christ, who would want to kill Gertrude?”

“I don’t know, but it scares me,” Jon admits, “Even more than if she was killed by some… Monster. Because…”

“Because this was a person,” Tim finishes, “And they could do it again.” Jon nods again. “Yeah, I get it.” Tim cocks his head, makes the face he always makes when he’s about to make a joke to try to lighten the mood, “Although, it could have been a monster with a gun. We don’t know that they can’t use guns.” And Jon can’t help it, he does grin a little.

“Yes, well, somehow I don’t think that’s likely,” he says.

“No,” Tim sighs mournfully, “But that would be pretty cool. I mean, bad for us, Jane Prentiss managed to fuck us up pretty badly with just the worms, I’m glad we didn’t have to worry about being shot—“

“Tim,” Jon says, stopping him, because this topic of conversation is not good for his anxiety.

“Sorry,” Tim says, picking up on Jon’s discomfort, “Uh, do the police have any leads?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Jon says, “I’d imagine the trail is pretty cold by now. I mean, it was probably someone at the Institute, to be able to get into the tunnels, but we have no idea if there are other entrances outside the Institute… So it really could’ve been anyone.”

“But why would someone kill Gertrude?” Tim wonders, “I mean, other than for gross incompetence at actual archiving. Unless she was a secret badass or something.”

“At this point, I wouldn’t even be all that surprised,” Jon mutters, “I don’t want to believe that there’s a murderer at the Institute, but that’s what makes the most sense.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, “Probably.”

“I— It feels like I’m being watched, when I’m in the Archives. And with the tunnels— there’s more to the Institute than I thought. There’s something off. And I think Gertrude’s death has something to do with that. And…” Jon bites his lip.

“And?” Tim prompts.

“And what if whoever killed her comes after me as well?”

“Jon…”

“I know, I know, it’s stupid, but I can’t shake the feeling.”

“After the day we’ve had, I don’t think that’s stupid. A bit paranoid, maybe, but not stupid.”

“Oh,” Jon says. He hadn’t expected Tim to take him seriously.

“Considering the way Prentiss seemed to single you out, I mean, it kind of makes sense that people— or monsters might have it out for the archivist.” And that’s something Jon’s been trying not to think about, but he definitely agrees.

“And that is a whole other terrifying question,” Jon sighs, “What exactly I’ve gotten us into. But my more immediate concern is whether or not there is a murderer in our midst.”

“Bit more pressing,” Tim agrees, “You think the cops can handle it?”

Jon shrugs, “They weren’t particularly interested in finding her the first time, I don’t think finding her killer is going to be a priority.”

Tim snorts. “No, of course not.”

“It could have been anyone, even Martin, even Sasha. I really hope it wasn’t them, but I’m starting to think that we can’t afford to trust anyone. I know how paranoid that sounds, but—“

“But it makes sense,” Tim says. They lapse into silence for a moment. “What about me?

“What?”

“How can you be sure I didn’t kill Gertrude?”

Jon considers it. He probably shouldn’t trust Tim, if he’s being purely logical. But he does. He knows Tim; he saw Tim, when he first came to the Institute, deeply traumatized and clearly in a bad place (and he’d been curious about what happened, of course he was, but he’s known for a very long time that there are things you don’t ask about.) Jon helped coax him into a better place, watched as Tim found himself again. All that, and what they’d been through today was a hell of a bonding experience, and well, they were alone a lot during the attack. If Tim wanted him dead, he’d had plenty of opportunities.

But really, it all comes down to: Jon is scared, and he doesn’t want to do this alone, and Tim is the safest option. No, not just that, he wants to trust Tim.

“Because you’re my friend and I’m choosing to trust you,” Jon says.

Tim has a bit of a deer-in-the-headlights look to him, like he wasn’t expecting Jon to be sincere.

“Yeah,” Tim says, and he looks away from Jon, and he sounds a bit strained, “Yeah boss, I trust you too.” Jon grins.

“I appreciate it,” Jon says, “Considering you’re allergic to sincerity.” He nudges Tim with his elbow, and Tim laughs, pulling Jon into a loose embrace, careful not to put too much pressure on their wounds. Tim sighs, and he starts gently brushing his fingers through Jon’s hair. Jon melts into the touch, and they settle back against the couch cushions in each other’s arms. It feels right.

“If you want to do your own investigation into Gertrude’s killer, I will help you,” Tim says, “One hundred percent. But right now we can’t really do anything. The Institute’s closed, we’re out on sick leave. The trail’s not gonna get any colder. First we need to focus on healing, okay?” Jon nods. “We can figure out all the suspects and make a murder board later, but I don’t think either of us are up to it right now.” As much as Jon’s skin is buzzing with the need to do something, or else he’s leaving himself open to attack, his more rational side knows that Tim is right. They’re safer together, anyway.

“Yeah,” Jon says, “Right. Let’s finish the movie.” They resume the movie, and Tim is a bit more subdued, content to watch the screen and idly run his fingers through Jon’s hair. As the film draws to a close, Tim starts to doze, breathing softly. Jon looks down at Tim’s peaceful face, covered in bandages, and his heart twists. This is his fault. If Tim hadn’t been helping Jon walk, he probably would’ve kept up with Martin, or if he’d left Jon to his fate, maybe he would have been able to outrun Prentiss and the worms.

This isn’t helpful, Jon chastises himself, but he can’t stop. If he can’t protect his employees, his friends, then what is the point? He tries not to spiral, and he directs his attention to the end of the movie. It’s not the kind of movie he would normally pick for himself, but he can see why Tim likes it. There are few things Tim values more than family, whether that be blood family or found family. Tim doesn’t talk much about his parents, but there are pictures of them and a brother around the place. Tim will talk more about his brother, but it’s always tinged with sadness, like he isn’t around anymore. Jon doesn’t ask; he feels like he hasn’t earned the right.

“I guess I should head back to my flat.” Jon says while the credits are rolling, because he can feel himself starting to nod off next to Tim. That wakes Tim up, though.

“Jon,” he groans, “It’s midnight. You’re staying here.” He says it with finality, like it’s obvious. “I’m not letting you take the tube in the middle of the night when you can barely walk.” He gestures at Jon’s cane. Jon feels like he needs to object out of politeness, to make sure that it’s really alright, but he is, quite frankly, too tired, and he knows Tim wouldn’t offer if he didn’t mean it. But still, that part within him that won’t allow him to be a burden on anybody squirms. He pushes the feeling down.

Jon nods. “Thank you, Tim.”

“Come on,” Tim says, slowly getting to his feet, “The guest bed is made up, and we’re really gonna regret it in the morning if we sleep on the couch.” He offers a hand to help Jon up, but Jon waves him off, not wanting to hurt him. He uses his cane to help him get to his feet, and Tim leads him to the guest bedroom.

“Bathroom’s across the hall,” Tim says, “Let me know if you need anything.” And then Tim pulls him into a hug, resting his chin on Jon’s shoulder. “I’m really glad we’re alive,” he says into Jon’s hair, “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

“Okay,” Jon replies, “Thanks Tim.”

That night, at least, they both sleep soundly, too exhausted for nightmares.

#tma #the magnus archives #jontim #tim stoker #jonathan sims #mine #my writing #tma fic

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found (Eight)

Slight TW for mentions of 40′s era h*mophobia and Tony’s thanks-to-Howard internalized h*mophobia but it’s over quick.

MASTERLIST HERE

*************

“I think there’s an issue with connectivity.” Tony chewed on the end of a pen as he watched James go through a series of repetitive motions with the prosthetic arm. “Which makes no sense at all, because obviously I did everything correct. Are you sure you’re doing that right?”

“Touchin’ the tips of my fingers together?” James raised his eyebrows and tried to touch the ring finger of the metal limb together with the thumb, gritting his teeth in frustration when the joints hitched and froze. “Yeah Tony, pretty sure I remember how to move my hand.”

“Okay fine, maybe I screwed up somewhere.” Tony huffed out a breath, blowing messy hair off his forehead. “Hold your breath, this will probably feel weird.”

The twist and pop of the arm disconnecting certainly did feel weird, the tug and strain at the plates in James’s chest when his shoulder weighed heavy for just a moment and then lightened in the next alien and uncomfortable. He flinched more from the awkward noise than from any actual pain though, grimaced away from a flash of nightmare that felt like being strapped down and hurt, and when Tony paused to ask, “Alright?” he simply nodded.

Sure. He was fine.

“This will only take a few minutes, hang tight.” Tony carried the arm back to another table and James reached up to feel gingerly along his shoulder, tracing the scars from the hard stump over to his collarbone.

Seeing himself reflected in the large mirror tilted above the chair was… well it was worse than James thought it would be. Tony had suggested that seeing what was happening might make the process a little easier but all James could see was damage, ruined skin and twisted muscles and a deathly pale pallor the sun never seemed to touch.

It was awful. He was awful and the situation was made all the worse for the way Tony was distant today, this morning, last night and every night since James had blundered into the not-kiss at the Expo.

The surprisingly easy laughter from just last week was gone, the quick smiles and nearly shared thoughts non existent. Tony wasn’t being cold, but he was stiff. He wasn’t avoiding spending time together, but movie nights happened with either man sat on the opposite side of the couch now, and attaching the new prosthetic arm was the closest Tony had been to James in days.

Everything was awful and James didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t know if Tony wanted to try and fix it, or if there was even something to try and fix--

--James was right back to not knowing anything at all except his name.

My name is James and he wanted to know so much more than that.

Awful.

“You asked if I watch the news.” he tried to break the silence when he just couldn’t take it anymore. “The other day, I mean. A few days ago. Before the Expo. You asked if I ever saw you on the news?”

“Yeah.” Tony looked up only briefly and went back to fine tuning the input of the arm.

“Sometimes the uh-- the counselor that came to the shelter would sit and watch with me.” James cleared his throat, discouraged by the lack of response. “I couldn’t ever watch the news, it about killed me to see some of that stuff but Sam said most of our memories are locked into references and not-- not concrete ideas. So maybe TV would help bring some of them around.”

“Sam Wilson.” Tony stated. “Pep’s mentioned him a few times, says he does good work. Did watching TV help with your memories.”

“No.” James dug his fingers into his thigh to combat the flush of failure at the back of his neck. “No it never did. Only confused me. Would watch game shows or documentaries and it wouldn’t be right. The name of countries, you know? I would see a map or something and think I knew it, then my answer would be wrong.”

Tony cocked his head, the first real sign of interest he’d shown all day. “Huh. Can you give me an example?”

“Well there’s--” James hesitated, searching his memory for one that had stood out with Sam. “--There’s a whole lotta places where the Soviet Union used to be. Names I don’t know and cities that used to be called something else.”

“Soviet Union.” Tony readjusted one more thing on the arm, then turned to face James fully. “What did Sam say about that? Anything?”

“He told me it could be something as easy as me havin’ watched a history movie or reading a book before my accident and those are the names that stuck with me afterwards.” James’s heart picked up when Tony smiled a little. Was it possible to miss a smile after a few days? “That never sounded right to me, though.”

“The Soviet Union collapsed in December of 1991.” Tony folded his arms and leaned back against the table. “I remember that entire month vividly. If you know for certain you remember it being the U.S.S.R, then you were at least high school age studying geography before it fell. Interesting.”

James wasn’t following Tony’s thought process at all but he was so happy the beautiful genius was talking to him again, he didn’t even care. “Why is that interesting?”

“Based on that fact alone, I’d suggest you were pushing thirty which means we could narrow down search parameters and maybe get a better lead on who you are.” Tony explained, his smile growing just a little bit more. “There’s other ways to figure it out too, but nothing easy or very concrete.”

James made a ‘go on’ motion and Tony scratched through his goatee as he thought it out.

“Well, I could run some tests if you’d like, but seeing as how we’re only barely managing getting the arm on in a La-Z-boy recliner cos the other chair upset you, I bet you don’t want me poking and prodding with needles and electrodes. Totally fine by the way.” he waved off James’s objection. “I don’t like it either. It’s fine. No tests, we don’t need to do that.”

“The easiest way to find you in the system is fingerprints.” he continued. “But I ran your fingerprints the first time you came through the lab as a precaution-- don’t look like that, I do it to everyone-- and yours aren’t in the system, or at least not anything recognizable. Not a big deal, fingerprinting tech is still fairly new, it wasn’t an electronic database till the 1980’s and AFIS wasn’t halfway usable till about 2000. There’s a thousand reasons why you wouldn’t be in there, even with your military service.”

“Fingerprints.” James looked down at his hand curiously. “What else?”

“We could always do DNA testing, but I wouldn’t do it without your permission. I know some people that track you down quick but DNA testing always seems a little… invasive.” Tony tapped at the reactor casing a few times. “I’m not a fan of anything invasive. And you know, finding results would hinge solely on the idea that your DNA is already registered somewhere and if your fingerprints don’t come up…”

He let the sentence trail and shrugged. “If you really want a definitive answer of who you are beyond a guess at your age based on when the Soviet fell, I’m happy to try. There isn’t a whole lot I can’t find out once I start getting nosy, but I figured if you wanted to know, you’d ask.”

Tony waited a beat, “Do you want to know?”

No.

I don’t know.

What sort of man dreams the things I do?

“I’m okay with just James for now.” is what James said instead of everything else burning on his tongue. “Maybe the memories will come back on their own.”

Tony nodded absentmindedly and turned back to the prosthesis, so James took his slightly raw feelings and tried to distract himself by picking up a nearby photo book. All the what-if’s of who he had been were colliding with all the what if’s from the Expo and circling round in his mind, round and round until he actually felt a little nauseous, so he cleared his throat and forced the thoughts away and flipped idly through the photos.

The pictures were at least twenty years old, snap shot after snap shot of a young Tony draped all over a younger James Rhodes, laughing hysterically at a joke between them, clearly wearing each other’s clothes and other costume pieces, a picture of Tony dead asleep on thick text books while Rhodey drew various genitalia on his face in marker.

Some of the photos were dated and placed at MIT, others were at what looked like the Colonel’s home, his family scattered in the background of their antics. Only one was a formal picture, Tony and Rhodey in fit suits standing solemn at the top of the stairs but in the very next frame the boys were wrestling and pulling at each others hair and then in a third picture mid-tumble down the stairs while a woman who looked remarkably like Tony threw her hands up in clear exasperation.

It was years of friendship, years of happiness and pranks and love and James found himself smiling as young Tony’s hair got higher and fluffier style changes, the clothes got more and more ridiculous, even the cap and gown graduation picture complete with fake mustaches and crossed eyes for the portrait.

There were pictures of vacation-- Tony in hilariously printed swim trunks, a floaty around his waist and over sized goggles on his face, Tony tripping over the flippers and face planting into the pool, Tony looking slightly drowned rat-ish as he struggled back onto dry land--

“Wow.” James didn’t mean to say anything out loud but the next picture of Colonel Rhodes didn’t match the silly theme of the book at all. It was an artistic shot, all pretty angles and purposeful shadows, a whole lot of skin and muscles on display and while it wasn’t obvious if Rhodey was actually sleeping or just posing, it was clearly obvious that whoever took the picture had had only one thought in mind.

Sexy.

“Didn’t realize the Colonel was so good lookin’.” He hadn’t meant to say that out loud either and after the Expo, James should have made a better effort to not blurt things out in front of Tony, but it was too late now, the words were out there and Tony was staring at him in surprise.

“What’d you say?”

“The-- the Colonel.” James put the book down and swallowed, looking away from it and from Tony. “He’s damn good looking. You and he ah-- you’re real close?”

“Rhodey is my best friend, and yes he’s a total hottie.” Tony carried the re-adjusted arm back to James and set it aside to pick up the book too, flipping through the pictures and chuckling when he got to the shirtless one. “Oh man, he hates this picture. I tried for days to convince him to submit a photo to some ‘hotties of spring break’ calendar and he refused, so I got him blasted on tequila and then took the shot while he was passed out snoring.”

“That--” James hesitated. “That seems creepy, Tony.”

“Yeah, in retrospect, one of the creepiest things ever but eh, what’s a little creep-on between besties?” Tony’s laugh was fond and maybe even a little melancholy as he set the book down again. “I labeled the picture as ‘Honeybear in the Near Nude’ and I really thought he was gonna kill me. Really did. Actually feared for my life the rest of that semester.”

“...That was the last spring break we had together before graduation.” Tony added after a minute. “Maybe the best week of my life.”

“Did he win--” Bucky stopped when an alarm chimed somewhere in the lab, and the first few lines of Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy started playing. “-- I know this song. What is this?”

“The Andrews Sisters.” Tony snapped his fingers and the music turned up a few notches. “How do you know it?”

“How do you know it?” James returned, his mind spinning with lyrics he knew and a beat he knew and holy shit he’d definitely danced to this before, suddenly James knew he loved dancing.

“It was my Auntie Peggy’s favorite song.” Tony took one of those nasty smoothies from Dum-E. “She taught me to dance to this kind of music and I set it as my alarm because it’s such an unusual sound these days that I couldn’t ever ignore it.”

“I know this song.” James said again, and it was incredible to know something beyond how much pressure it took to snap a man’s collarbone and whether or not the walls were thick enough to stop a bullet. “I love this song.”

“I don’t know if I love it-- hold still, please.” Tony set the prosthesis up to James’s shoulder and notched it in with a few clicks. “--but it makes me think of Peggy, which makes me happy and means that I’m not as cranky when I have to drink this green stuff. How does the arm feel?”

“Bout the same as last time.” James mouthed along with a few of the lines as the song played in the background. “Should I do the same sorta stuff to check it out?”

“Yeah, touch your thumb to each finger and flex your wrist as you do.” Tony instructed around a mouthful of smoothie. “If we can get past that part this time around we’ll move on to something else.”

“Sure.” James went through each motion as Tony directed, touching his finger tips together and rotating his wrist, unable to help a smile as the left hand responded perfectly to his every thought. “Feel great, Tony. This is amazing.”

“Yeah yeah, I know.” Tony’s dark eyes were glowing with excitement, and James’s concentration faltered when Tony leaned in even closer and ran his hand up the metal limb. “All the things I’ve built, and bionic man never made it to my list. I can’t believe what I was missing out on.”

Tony tried to close his hand around the bicep of the left arm and scrunched his nose in delight when his fingers didn’t come anywhere even remotely close to touching. “Alright, you can’t actually pop the knuckles on this hand but make the motion anyway, holding each finger down with your thumb like you’re trying to crack the joint. It’s a weird gesture and not one that everyone can do but it will test the dexterity of the prosthesis as well as prove how well it connects to your mind.”

James hummed along to the music as he followed the easy instruction, laughing in quiet disbelief when the new arm did everything he wanted.

I have two hands again.

I’m whole again.

I’m me again.

“All that looks good, so what we’re going to do now is--”

“Dance with me.” James interrupted and Tony stopped, mouth open. “C’mon there’s all sortsa things we can do to test this thing out but dancing would take care of most of them, right?” he glanced up at the speakers and then back down at Tony. “I love this song, Tony. Dance with me.”

“You want to dance with me?” Tony’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, expression shuttering just like it had at the Expo. “James, I don’t think--”

“I’ll go easy on you.” James tried for coaxing, for teasing, for anything besides fear of another rejection. He might not know a whole lot of anything these days but he knew this song and he knew he really really wanted another chance at whatever had almost happened at the Expo, and damn it Tony’s smile was so pretty he almost couldn’t stand it.

He felt like him all the sudden, two hands and an easy smile and even though the sight of metal gleaming along his left side triggered warning bells somewhere deep in his subconscious, James ignored them for the sake of holding out his hand and curling his fingers hopefully. “Dance with me Tony.”

Spend time with me when I feel human.

“Promise not to step on your toes?” he offered almost desperately now-- please please see me as me, I’m so close to me right now-- but his heart sank when Tony stuttered, “Uh James listen. About-- about the Expo and when we almost--I mean, that’s something we should talk about, right? Before you suggest anything like dancing?”

“Never mind.” This time it was James pulled away, who cleared his throat and blanked his expression and let his words get clipped and a little frosty, unease and insecurity warring with a little bit of self loathing for being so fucking dumb to try and fail again. “Forget I asked.”

“No wait--”

“Tony, I don’t really want to hear all the reasons why you didn’t want to kiss me.” James could almost feel himself fading away, disappearing back behind the gates in his mind as the warning bells about the metal arm started to get loud again. “Or all the ways I was misreading everything I thought I saw. Guess I’m more outta practice with this than I thought I was and I don’t want you saying yes cos you feel bad for me or anything, just leave it be.”

Silence, and James cleared his throat, tried not to let the misery and feeling of failure seep too far into his voice. “What else do I need to do to test this thing out?”

“No, don’t change the subject, we should talk about this.” Tony scrubbed his hand over his mouth and closed his eyes. “Fuck me, I’m bad at this but I’ve been working on talking things out and trying to say what I mean instead of being sarcastic all the time so here we go. James, about what happened at the Expo--”

“Tony don’t.”

“--Do you think Rhodey is hot or not?” Tony burst out and James’s mouth fell open. “Do you?”

“...He’s a good lookin’ fella, sure.”

“Okay.” Tony nodded a few times. “Okay, because I think he’s hot too but it’s taken me twenty five years to be able to say that out loud. You know what I mean?”

“I--” James hesitated. “No. Sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”

“It means I’ve been pretending for twenty five years that I don’t notice anything remotely attractive about Rhodey and this is the first time in my life I’m not lying about it.” Tony’s eyes were wide, a streak of red painted high on his cheeks. “My Dad was flat out against anything like that and I don’t know if my Ma knew or not, but it’s been twenty five years and I’m just now comfortable saying it.”

“...okay?”

“And then you went and almost kissed me at the Expo and it all sort of--” Tony made a crazy motion with his hands. “-- I didn’t handle it very well and I’m sorry, but it wasn’t you, it was me and my Dad’s voice right here--” a finger to his temple. “--saying a whole lot of things. You get it?”

James wet his lips and clenched his fists and Tony kept staring, kept hoping James understood even a little bit.

“Twenty five years.” he repeated, chewing at the inside of his cheek and pressing his palm to the reactor to ease the anxious balling up inside. “And it sucks that I made it to over forty before I managed to stop listening to all that crap about who I am and who I’m supposed to be attracted to, but it is what it is. I promise you’re not reading anything wrong on my end, but I’ve never been brave enough to do this before so I gotta know-- am I reading it all wrong on your end?”

And after a quiet, shaky breath, “Do you hear all that shit in your head saying this is wrong too, or is it just me that’s a ball of goddamn conflicted?”

“Goddamn conflicted.” James repeated, and his mind went back who knows how many years ago to all the things he used to hear when he tried to hide, when he went to church in secret and tried to confess, when he gave in a few times and quit pretending to be just like the other fellas.

C’mon now, you know better than to think like that. We like dames, don’t we? Stop starin’.

The Good Book wholly condemns those who engage in perversion, James. Ask for forgiveness and move on from such sin.

Look, what we do here at night is one thing, but don’t go talkin’ bout it in the day time, I’m not a queer, you just got a pretty mouth.

Stay away from that side of town, don’t you know that’s where the fags go?

Tony was asking for understanding and for another chance, for forgiveness because of his reaction and offering an explanation that sounded an awful lot like what James heard in his head every time he thought about how beautiful Tony was.

“I’m so bad at this.”

James must have been quiet too long, because Tony muttered a curse and sat back in his own chair. “Shit. I am so damn bad at this. You know what, maybe we should call it a day and try again tomorrow, I’m clearly not up to dancing or working or putting together sentences or making any fucking sense so--”

“Tony.” James made up his mind and held out his hand again, eyes hopeful and voice as soft as he could make it. “I love this song. Dance with me?”

“Okay.” Tony’s fingers shook just a little as he placed them in James’s palm. “I love this song too.”

*****************

Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy wasn’t a slow song by any means, and Tony was several years past his last dance lesson with Peggy, but after a few mis steps and playful arguments about who exactly was going to lead, James finally flexed his left arm and lifted Tony right off the ground to announce, “If you can lift me up, you’re welcome to lead, Tony.” and Tony laughed in surprise and kept right on laughing as JARVIS started the song over and James took him out between the desks for a dance.

“You’re doing it wrong.” James chuckled and dragged Tony forward into the right steps, left hand secure at Tony’s hip and right hand clasped around Tony’s fingers lightly. “Come on, it’s swing not a waltz. Loosen up for me.”

“You don’t remember your own last name but somehow you remember how to swing dance?” Tony was out of breath already, but game to try and keep up step for step, easing his body towards pliant so James could lead them through the familiar patterns. “How’d you get so good at this anyway?”

“I know this song.” James repeated, concentrating on the give of Tony’s waist soft beneath the hard fingers and not on the headache coming along with thoughts of dancing and maybe even watching the Andrews sisters up on stage as they sang the song which-- that didn’t make sense because the song was seventy something years old at this point wasn’t it? No way he saw them perform.

“I just know it.” he decided, and then teasing, “Or maybe I’m just a better dancer than you.”

“I could ballroom dance your socks off.” Tony announced, and barked a startled laugh when James spun him out into a quick twirl. “I didn’t take six years of lessons with Madame Laurent for nothing. Swing dancing just isn’t exactly my forte.”

“Well next time I give you a lesson, make sure you’re wearin’ a twirly skirt so I can get ya above my head and take a peek, huh?” James grinned, and there his voice went slipping soft and flirty and so damn Brooklyn Tony stumbled and nearly fell when his heart jolted in his chest.

Twenty five years it took to even admit out loud that Rhodey was a damn hottie and now Tony was faced with a soldier right out of his musical-themed day dreams who could dance and smile and talked like all his favorite characters from movies he’d watched enough times to ruin the tapes.

Twenty five years to admit something as dumb as his best friend being attractive and now James was laughing with him and teasing and the mis-step at the Expo seemed ages ago, almost impossible with the way the soldier’s pale eyes were lit up right now and the way James’s fingers held just a little tighter at Tony’s waist and pulled him in close through a turn and ohhhh their bodies brushed together and Tony closed his eyes when a bolt of heat went straight to his core.

Was he so touch starved and miserably horny that a silly dance to his Auntie’s ancient music was going to get him hard?

Another turn and another touch and James’s hand slipped lower along Tony’s waist and he nearly passed out.

Yep. Yep he really was that touch starved and miserably horny.

Except not really miserable. Tony was having the most fun in the world dodging lab tables and chairs as James got more confident with his steps and JARVIS kept the song playing around them. A few banged ankles and stepped on toes were worth feeling the heat pouring off James’s chest, the steel like security of the left arm contrasted with the drugging warmth of the right hand when James cupped the back of Tony’s head to hold him steady through a quick turn and two step.

The music went on, the dance got easier, and then their legs tangled almost to the point of catastrophe and James caught Tony laughing as they crashed together--

--and Tony bit his tongue to quiet a moan when he felt James’s body reacting against his own.

“J-James?”

“Tony.” This time James knew he wasn’t reading anything wrong, this time he wasn’t going to second guess himself and this time Tony was definitely leaning in and standing on his toes--

“Shit!” James jerked away at the last second, jerked away and recoiled when everything seized along his left side and lit up painful, sparks popping behind his eyes. “Ow! Tony help!”

“Damn it, come here and sit down so I can get it off.” Moment temporarily stalled, Tony slid right back into inventor mode and pushed James down onto the closest chair so he could get to work disconnecting the new arm. “I don’t know what’s going on with this thing, I really thought I could just connect it to your shoulder but I might have to go a little deeper into your chest to fix it, maybe even do something with adjustable plates since this piece doesn’t really move, then everything could re calibrate individually as needed….”

Tony trailed off into mumbling as James lay back and tried to breathe through the pain shooting across his chest. Everything on his left side felt like it was on fire, like it used to those first few months after waking up beneath that bridge, phantom weight dragging his shoulder down and the feeling of needles in his skin.

It hurt and he growled a rough curse when Tony pushed at his shoulder experimentally.

“Sorry.” Tony said immediately. “Sorry about that. I can fix this, I definitely can. JARVIS run some simulations on using individual pieces instead of one solid on like the armor-- the arm. Not long lines like muscles but horizontal plates instead. A hundred small calculations to adjust as he moves, not three or four major ones.”

“Yes sir.”

“One two three, off.” Tony pulled the arm off and hurried it back to the fabrication station so JARVIS could take the appropriate scans and start working on the changes. “Okay, you still with me? James?”

A bottle of water pressed into James’s hand, and Tony hesitated before resting his palms on James’s thighs. “Feeling okay?”

“Feeling like shit for ruining our dance.” James grit out, honest because there was no reason to lie to Tony, no reason to hide his disappointment when he knew Tony had been having just as much as him. “Sorry about that.”

“Rescheduled doesn’t mean ruined.” Tony said the words lightly but his heart was in his throat, waiting to see if James would acknowledge the clear invitation. “Right?”

“Right.” The corner of James’s mouth crooked up into a smile. “Rescheduled.”

A smile meant good things, the invitation to another dance meant lots of very good things so Tony gathered every bit of his courage, every bit of determination he had about completing his bucket list, all the hope he’d gotten every time James smiled at him or flirted a little and all the butterflies in his stomach from their dance and said softly, so softly,--

“James, I-- I’d like to take you to bed.”

And James’s eyes opened wide and incredulous, “...what?!”

****************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER

****************

@quietgayguy @bluedreamdino @akimi-youngblood @blackstar1602 @dixiehellcat @travellover1245 @capnstarkey @the-awkward-teenaged-one @thanossucks @peteryoulittleshit @tony-and-steeeb @striving-artist @roe-sesandthorns @coolsidedpillow @i-am-worth-it-25 @firelightmystic @maligatorthealigator @simsccsol @a-tardis-in-221b @happyendingrequired @everygoodoneistaken11 @pootie-and-the-snoots @megahuffledor @xkissmeimirishx @crystalskrull @hazelbeatsturtle @wecollectnightmares @endrega23 @saganarojanaolt @the-crazy-house @ravynfyre @yomama-umbridge @lovely--tony @gayspacesprinkles @elliotkaingrey @warmachinesocks @glitternotgold73

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @justaniche

#ncts fics #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes

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my-own-oracle · 4 years

Text

TFA Prowl-“Kiss me.”

This was a request for prompt #9 of my prompt list. I hope when I’ve got everything re-uploaded i can take requests again.

Detroit was a beautiful place. And there was no better way to appreciate it then on the back of your favorite bot. You had started today at the Autobot base with having given your word to Prowl that you would show him your preferred hiking route in the nearby forest.

While you did get to show him the trail, the calm atmosphere you had hoped to have with Prowl had been dashed when Bumblebee and Sari had followed the two of you. You think the two of them had been trying to spy on you and the ninja bot, the only flaw in their plan was the decision to spy on a ninja.

The two of you then tried the park, again you were interrupted, this time by children who excitedly wanted to play with Prowl. You had found the whole situation quite endearing, Prowl had less so. You knew he appreciated the children and their excitement. Still, he was hoping to experience more of the world around him and not its human inhabitants. After trying two more parks with similar results, you suggested a quiet afternoon inside, one with in-depth life discussions and maybe even a nature documentary.

Knowing the base would never be the embodiment of quiet or peaceful, the two of you had settled for your small apartment.

"Ok, I'll go and unlock the place you park in my spot and meet me upstairs." You ran up the walk and hurried to your second-floor abode.

Eyeing the disaster zone, you quickly went about cleaning up the few messes you could. Moving the random books back to the bookcase, folding and neatly laying out the blankets thrown about the room. You heard the door open and watched as Prowls holoform entered your home. You collapsed down on your couch, patting the cushion next to you.

"I'm sorry again about today. Nothing went the way it was supposed to." you looked out your glass door at the city. The bots gave them everything, couldn't these heroes have just a little time for themselves?

"It's quite alright, (Y/N) " you flipped over to a channel you knew would have some kind of documentary. There was, instead of a nature documentary, there was one on humanity. More specifically, the 1920's. Ladies in flapper dresses danced with men in zoot suits. A man dipping a woman into a deep kiss, her hand wrapped up in the back of his shirt. Couples embraced celebrating the end of hard times, not knowing the hard times to come ahead.

"I have not been able to wrap my processor around organic beings, and there need for physical touch. Let alone your species need to press your face against another's." You turn to Prowl. He's intently watching the couples on screen.

"You mean to tell me hugging and kissing are forgiven concepts to you?"

"Not precisely, Cybertronians embrace, but it's not as casual as your species embraces. And if a kiss is what you call this, " He gestures to yet another couple on scream kissing, "then yes, I don't quite understand it." You wanted to laugh. Of course, some things would be vastly different between your cultures, but now you feel the need to justify why your species enjoyed the act.

"Well, it's a little different from just pressing a face to another." You point at the couple kissing at a speak-easy, "The emotions behind the kiss are the most important part."

"And the emotions here are, perhaps, love and adoration?"

"I'd go more towards lust and infatuation, but sure, yours sounds better."

The screen cuts from the couple to an advertisement.

"So, it's all about emotions?" You look over at Prowls holoform, turning your body to face his.

"No, I mean there's more to it, it's enjoyable. Science wise we know our bodies release hormones and endorphins." You can feel the heat on your face, but press on with your explanation. "physically; if your partner knows what there doing, it can feel good too."

Prowl had a look, a look you recognized as contemplation. He was trying to imagine it.

"Fascinating."

"That's one way to describe it." You watched Prowl, you could see the gears turning in his head. He was definitely trying to imagine being kissed, but you could see his processor struggling.

"Kiss me." You choked on air. There was no way you heard that right.

"I- I'm- What?"

"Not all of these kisses are intense, correct? You said that the emotions behind them play a large role." Your brain misfired. How do you explain this to an alien who's concept of physical interaction was so vastly different from your own.

"I-dont, My- I mean-ok," why did you just agree? No-no-no-no. Prowl smiled, reaching a hand out to you. Your body felt like it was on fire, you dug your grave, now you have to lay in it.

Gently you took his hand. "There are lots of different kinds of kisses." You found your brain working on some kind of autopilot. "Some parts of the world use them as greetings." You flipped over his hand, kissing the holoform's knuckles. "Like that or like this." You grab the back of the couch using it for leverage to bring your body closer to Prowl. Sitting next to him on your knees, you turn his torso, so the holoform of a man was facing you. Before four courage could leave you, you lean in and kiss either cheek.

"And this is how some humans great others?" His free hand came up to touch his face.

"Yeah, in some countries," You were still really close to Prowls holoform. You could almost see the false human eyes beyond his glasses.

"What about the one we saw on the television, is that one used as a greeting?" The pure innocence in his voice, combined with your proximity, made your heart race.

"No, it's more of a- farewell or emotional connection kind of kiss." You moved back, sitting on the couch. Your body still facing Prowl; you could see his holoform phase for a moment. A rare sight, and sign the bot was distracted. Taking the opportunity you returned to the television, flipping to the history channel, maybe there would be a nature documentary on this channel instead.

"(Y/N), " you turn your head back to Prowl only for his lips to gently press to your own. It was quick, a gentle peck before he was back to his original position. A soft smile gracing his features. "I feel like we have an emotional connection, as small as it may be." his hand cupped your cheek, brushing a strand of hair away. "Perhaps we can explore it together." Prowl leans forward again, kissing the corner of your mouth before turning to the old tv on the stand. "I'd love to have another lesson on kissing once this program's over."

You lean into Prowls' side, you face feeling a little warm, and electricity shooting through your veins.

"Sure, Prowl. Whatever you want to know."

I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know your thoughts!

#tfa prowl #prowl x reader #request #transformers animated #transformers prowl

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esperinkdraws · 5 years

Text

again, and again, and again

or, 5 times Patton asked, “Can I?”

this is like, really long, so under the cut it goes. (Also i really hate how section four is shorter than all the rest).

tagging @jessibbb and @bexxbeauty because moxiety

tagging @stop-it-anxiety and @lildevyl because Sanders Sides

stuffs: food mentions throughout, a panic attack and mention of parents arguing in section 2, mention of a storm in section 4, and a kiss or two at the end. I think that’s it?

He was by himself. Sitting against a wall, away from the other kids. Virgil didn’t mind. He supposed he was used to it.

Shoes appeared in front of him and he looked up. A boy with dirty blond hair and freckles grinned at him, waving.

“Hi!” he said. “I’m Patton.”

Virgil recognized him from the classroom. Patton usually sat in one of the front seats and was typically a chatterbox.

“You’re Virgil, right?” Patton asked. When Virgil nodded, Patton smiled again. “Can I sit next to you?” Virgil nodded again, and so Patton took a seat next to him on the concrete.

Patton started to talk as Virgil continued to draw with chalk. He kind of tuned him out until he noticed it was quiet. He looked up again.

Patton was watching him, tilting his head just slightly. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

Virgil blushed and ducked his head, shaking his head no.

Patton brightened nonetheless. “That’s okay! My mom says I talk enough for two people.” He giggled, and Virgil couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

Patton sat next to him at recess and lunch for a week. And then the next week. Virgil half-expected him to stop at any moment, since he didn’t ever really reply.

One day Patton’s shoes stopped in front of Virgil again. The quiet boy looked up, and Patton had a surprisingly thoughtful look on his face.

“Virgil?” he asked, and he sounded almost hesitant. “Are you my friend?”

Virgil blinked at him and looked down in thought. Was that what they were? Friends? Well, they weren’t strangers, at least.

Patton shifting from foot to foot caused Virgil to look back up. Yes, he decided. Maybe that’s what they were. He nodded.

Patton beamed, moving to sit next to him. He offered Virgil his cookie. “Do you want my cookie? I’m allergic.”

Virgil didn’t quite know where he was. His parents had been arguing and he just ran. He hated when they argued. He couldn’t stand it.

Now he was lost in an unfamiliar neighborhood and it was getting hard to breathe.

He’d been sitting there for a bit, head on his knees, when he became aware that there was someone in front of him.

“Virgil?”

He recognized the voice. Patton. He lifted his head just a bit to peek out at him. Patton reached out a hand and Virgil flinched back. Patton quickly retracted the hand and took a few steps back, shoes disappearing from view. He was leaving, wasn’t he? Virgil dug his nails into his palm.

Wait, no – he could hear his voice a few feet away, mingling with two other voices he didn’t recognize.

Patton’s shoes reappeared in Virgil’s vision. “Virgil?” Patton asked again. “Can I touch you?”

Virgil hesitated, but then he nodded. Patton placed a light hand on the back of Virgil’s wrist. “I’m gonna count, okay? My dad taught us this. I’m gonna count to four, and then to seven, and then to eight. You’re supposed to breathe with the numbers.”

Virgil didn’t respond verbally or physically. Patton gently tapped his wrist. “Okay?” he repeated. Virgil nodded, and Patton started counting.

It took a few times for Virgil to start breathing normally again. He looked up and noticed that something was different about Patton. He was wearing round glasses, which he hadn’t been when Virgil saw him at school earlier.

Behind Patton, Virgil could see two other kids that looked the same age as them. One also had glasses (but different frames) and the other had a red paper crown on his head.

Virgil bit his lip and looked back down.

“Oh,” Patton said. “These are my brothers, Logan and Roman. We have the same birthdays!” He clapped a little.

“Triplets,” Logan said with a small adjustment of his glasses, and Patton nodded.

“Yeah, that.” He gestured between his brothers and Virgil. “This is my best friend Virgil!”

Oh.

Best friend?

Patton’s brothers greeted Virgil and didn’t mention the lack of verbal response.

Virgil glanced back at Patton, tapping the side of his own head, near his eyes.

“Oh yeah!” Patton said, taking off his glasses to show him. “I got glasses today!”

Virgil sat on a bench near the cafeteria, swinging his legs, (or, at least trying to. He’d grown too much to be able to do it correctly).

He watched the rest of the sixth graders file out of the cafeteria. None of them would be sixth graders after this, and it sort of scared him. It was the last day and the school had decided to celebrate that with an award assembly.

Virgil was just waiting for his mom to pick him up. She was at work and his dad wasn’t in the picture anymore.

“Virgil!”

His head snapped up to see Patton running to him. His brothers trailed behind him.

Patton skidded to a stop right in front of Virgil, and then took a step back in case he was too close. He was grinning at him and his eyes were wet. “Can I hug you?” he asked.

Virgil nodded, slightly confused.

Patton smiled again and hugged him briefly, then he let go and stepped back again. “I just have a lot of feelings,” he said, bringing a hand up to wipe at a tear that had escaped.

“Oh,” Virgil said, and they both pretended that Patton’s eyes didn’t widen at the first word Virgil had said to him since they’d met two years prior.

But Patton just grinned at him again, turning when his brothers had caught up to him. Logan greeted them and Roman reminded Virgil to sign his yearbook.

“I’m so excited for next year!” Patton said. His brothers noticed him start to ramble and quietly slipped away.

Virgil didn’t mind Patton’s rambling at all. He’d come to enjoy it, and he was very much used to it since he was the one who didn’t talk.

“Gosh, I hope we get a lot of classes together,” Patton continued, clutching his yearbook to his chest.

He didn’t get to say much more before a man approached and said, “Hey kiddo, it’s time to go.”

Patton pretended to pout. But then he turned to him and said, “Hi dad! This is Virgil.”

“Ah, so this is the best friend we’ve been hearing about,” Patton’s dad said good-naturedly, but Virgil blushed nonetheless.

“He’s a therapist,” Patton told Virgil proudly. Then he looked thoughtful. “Can I hug you again?”

Virgil nodded, and Patton smiled.

Patton hugged him and then let go. “I’ll see you later,” he said, and Virgil watched as the family left.

It was a dark and stormy night.

Well, no, not really. It was a dark and stormy late afternoon. Virgil had gone over to Patton’s house to do homework and it had started to rain the minute he stepped inside.

It had been alright for a bit, and the boys had gotten some things done, but then the sky darkened, lightning and thunder happened, and the power had gone out.

Patton fretted. Virgil might have found Patton’s fear of storms a little silly if he didn’t care for him so much. If he didn’t find the other teen so… endearing.

Patton turned to him, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Can I… can I hold your hand?”

Virgil offered his hand, and only hummed when Patton latched onto it.

“Sorry,” Patton said softly, and Virgil just shrugged as if to say, ‘it’s okay.’ Patton smiled a little. “Can I… put my head here?” he asked next, tilting his head towards Virgil’s shoulder until getting an okay from him. He snuggled into his side.

Virgil quietly tried not to melt as he continued to work on his homework with his free hand.

“You know, Virge,” Patton said with a small, content sigh, and Virgil hummed in response. “I’m glad we’re friends.” He smiled up at him when Virgil glanced down.

Roman had taken it upon himself to assist Virgil in his quest for his brother’s hand. When he learned that Virgil had a crush on Patton, he insisted on helping with the confession.

“Fine, if you don’t want to say anything to him, maybe you can write him something,” Roman was saying. “You know what people like?”

“Bagels,” Virgil supplied helpfully.

“…No, what?” Roman was nearly confused into silence. Virgil still rarely spoke and when he did, it always seemed to trip Roman up. Not to mention Virgil’s answer did not seem on topic. “Maybe.” He waved a hand. “Um, poetry!”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t give me that look,” Roman said. “Poetry has been used for years to express how one feels about someone. Dedicate something to him. Take, for one, Shakespeare’s sonnet 138. Allow me to demonstrate.” Roman cleared his throat and started to recite the poem. “’When my love swears to me that she’ – or, well, ‘he’ in this situation – ‘is made of truth, I do believe her though I know she lies—”

“I’ll stop you right there,” Logan said, causing the other two to jump due to seemingly appearing out of nowhere. “That is about an older man and an unfaithful girl… lying to maintain their relationship.”

Roman opened his mouth and then closed it. “Oh.”

Logan rolled his eyes at Roman’s surprised silence, turning to Virgil. “If you’re going to be using Shakespeare, might I suggest, Shakespeare’s sonnet 18? ‘Shall I compare thee’ –”

The sound of a door opening interrupted him. Patton had arrived home, and he saw them all standing in the kitchen. “Oh, Virgil! What are you doing here?” he asked.

“He was waiting for you,” Roman said helpfully. Without pausing, he said, grabbing Logan’s arm, “Hey, Lo, you wanted to show me that documentary about sharks, right?”

“Well, yes, but—” Logan didn’t get to finish his protest.

“Excellent, let’s go watch it.” Roman dragged a confused Logan out of the room.

Patton watched them go with a slight tilt of his head before turning to Virgil, smiling at him. “You were waiting for me?” he asked.

Virgil nodded, just once. “I—” He hesitated, cutting himself off. Patton’s eyebrows rose in either surprise of curiosity, and Virgil almost immediately lost most of his confidence.

Patton’s expression softened. “Take your time,” he said.

Virgil’s face flushed as he chewed on one of his fingernails for a moment. “I really like you,” he managed to say.

There was only a moments’ pause before Patton beamed up at him. “I really like you too, Virgil.”

Virgil thought that Patton misunderstood, so he shook his head to indicate that no, not in a friendship way, when Patton stopped him.

“Like more than friends, right?”

Virgil blinked, nodding slowly.

Patton just smiled and lifted a hand to hold Virgil’s cheek, stopping before contact to silently ask permission. Virgil leaned into the touch and Patton full-on grinned. “Virgil,” he said, meeting his eyes, “can I kiss you?”

Virgil nodded wordlessly and Patton surged up to press his lips against Virgil’s.

When Patton eventually pulled away, he giggled at the dazed look on Virgil’s face. “Hey Virge,” he said, and Virgil hummed in reply. “Wanna be my boyfriend?”

“God, yes,” Virgil said, and Patton kissed him again.

#sanders sides #moxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #ts virgil #ts patton #sanders sides fic #mystuff #myff

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 years

Text

Black Forest Pass

Summary: The reader and Dean offer to help out Sam with a documentary he’s making for class. But when he goes missing on their weekend camping trip, they start to wonder if they’re really alone out there...

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Word Count: 8,500ish

Warnings: language, scary situations

A/N: This is sort of a Blair Witch AU/horror genre AU if I had to put a label on it. Fair warning, it’s weird. Enjoy!...

_____

“Why are we out here again?” groaned Dean, two hours into your hike.

“We’re helping Sam with his documentary for school,” you said.

“It’s for my thesis project,” said Sam.

“I thought you were gonna be a psychiatrist or something,” said Dean, picking at his new backpack strap.

“I am but I’m taking a film class cause it’s an easy A and this is literally all I have to do for it. It’s one weekend out in the woods,” said Sam.

“Sammy, no offense but a hiking documentary isn’t all that thrilling,” you said, flipping on your go pro strapped to your backpack.

“Guys. I already told you,” said Sam, whacking Dean’s hand when he started to play with the camera on his own pack. “This is a documentary on you two.”

“Eh,” you and Dean both whined.

“I covered for you both so hard when you two threw a huge party back in-“

“First off, that was like five years ago. Second, Y/N and I got our own place now. What? Are our parents gonna ground us?” said Dean.

“I will take you both out to a very nice dinner. On me,” said Sam.

“Deal,” you and Dean said, Sam rolling his eyes.

“We don’t have to like, be all couple-y or anything do we?” you asked.

“Not at all. I want you guys to be yourselves, that’s it.”

“Y/N,” said Dean quietly when Sam went off on his own to use the bathroom an hour later. “Does Sam seem weird to you at all?”

“No...why?” you asked.

“I got this weird feeling. He’s like super quiet,” said Dean.

“He’s filming. Plus it’s kind of nice to take a quiet hike…” you said, cocking your head. “Are you like, messing with me?”

“What?” he asked.

“Sam’s a psych major, Dean. We both know the two of us walking around in the woods is boring. You two are up to something I bet,” you said.

“No. I’m not. Maybe you and Sam are up to something,” he said, crossing his arms.

“He’s your brother!”

“He’s your best friend!”

“Fine, let’s just ask Sam,” you said, both of you spinning back around. “Sam!”

“Sammy boy!” called Dean. It was quiet, Dean glancing at you once before he headed back down the hill. “Didn’t he stop to take a piss here?”

“Yeah,” you said. You walked back, Dean staring at the back of a tree. “Well where is he?”

“I don’t know,” said Dean, walking a bit further into the woods. You stayed put for a moment, sighing loudly.

“I swear if you two are pranking me I will-“

“Y/N! Get over here!” shouted Dean. You jogged over and saw Dean over Sam’s backpack, his head turning every which way. “Sam!”

“Maybe he had to go number two,” you said.

“Why would he leave his backpack though? And come all the way over here?” asked Dean. He picked up the bag, wide eyed when it practically flew off the ground. He spun it over and unzipped it, the backpack completely empty.

“What is going on,” you said, spinning around, looking for any sign of Sam’s things. “That’s his backpack.”

“Sammy!” shouted Dean. You caught his worried face, your own falling.

“You really aren’t pulling a prank, are you,” you said.

“Where is he?” asked Dean. You saw the panic start to wash over him and you grabbed his hand.

“It’s alright Dean. We’ll find him. Maybe he fell and the wind caught his bag and flew it up here. We’ll look around and we’ll find him, okay?” you said.

“You’re not pranking me right? I swear I won’t get mad,” said Dean.

“Babe, I wish I was,” you said, Dean squeezing your hand hard.

“You stick close,” he said.

“I will. Here,” you said, taking off your pack and pulling out an orange sheet of fabric. “We’ll mark off where we go from the trail so we don’t get lost.”

“Okay,” he said with a nod. You went back to the trail and tied a few pieces off, handing Dean the sheet as you got back to him and started to head into the woods. The most logical theory was that Sam had fallen so you both headed down hill, taking the less steep way there but you never saw a sign of him or his things.

“Sam!” you shouted, Dean joining in for a few minutes. “Where the hell did he go?”

“He wouldn’t just…” said Dean, rubbing his hands against his face.

“Hey. Don’t freak on me,” you said, taking one of his hands again. Dean nodded and you kept walking until you found a small river. It was easy enough to cross with a few jumps on some rocks, Dean and you trying to follow it on the off chance he fell in.

“Y/N, I got a weird feeling,” said Dean when you ran out of trail markers. “He wouldn’t have gone this far. And his backpack...where’s his stuff?”

“What are you saying?” you asked.

“I don’t know. I’m just...I feel like someone’s watching us,” said Dean.

“It’s the woods. It’s creepy and it’s getting later in the day,” you said, putting your hand on your head. “Shit. Dean, Sam can’t be out here all night without supplies. I mean, he can last a night but it won’t be fun for him. That’s if…”

“If he’s not hurt,” said Dean, closing his eyes. “We need to get back on the trail, try to get out of here before it’s pitch black. We tell a ranger Sam’s lost out here. They’ll send out people to look.”

“We can look a little longer,” you said.

“Sam had the map and the trail was hard enough to follow anyways. We got to get out while we have the light,” said Dean.

“Alright,” you said with a sigh. “Wait. I want to leave a note in case Sam finds our markers somehow.”

“Glad I fell for a smartie pants,” said Dean, his voice a little too high though. You smiled as you jotted down for Sam to follow the markers back to the trail and stay put if he found it, that you’d gone to get help. “Alright. Let’s try and get back.”

“Dean,” you sighed, wandering along the river’s edge awhile later. “Dean.”

“I swear those rocks were right here and we had markers…” said Dean, scratching his head. He grabbed your hand and you walked the direction you’d come from, your footsteps slowing as you saw no markers and no note. “I remember that tree. I swear I do.”

“Where are our markers?” you asked. Dean looked over your head and spun all around, grabbing your hand.

“Let’s get out of here. We know the direction we came from,” said Dean. “That should be enough. We weren’t that far in.”

“Where’s the fucking trail?” said Dean, staring at the ground on the hill later on in the day, near where you’d found Sam’s pack. “Y/N.”

“I remember that tree over there cause I thought it looked pretty and…” you said, looking all around. “The trail was here, Dean.”

“How does a trail just disappear?” he said. You heard an owl hoot, Dean spinning around in circles, pulling his flashlight out of his side pocket. “Shit, it’s getting dark out.”

“I’m sure…” you said, tucking into his side when you heard a snap. “What was that?”

“Probably a squirrel,” he said, aiming his flashlight in that direction.

“So to recap, Sam’s missing when he was only a hundred feet from us, his empty backpack was near the now non-existent trail and we can’t seem to find a trace of his stuff or him and our markers and note and landmarks we all know for a fact were there are also missing,” you said.

“It sounds not so bad when you put it like that,” said Dean, grabbing your hand when you heard a rustling. “It’s probably a deer.”

“It was a squirrel before,” you said, Dean starting to walk backwards with you.

“Well, I’d rather we not find out what it is,” said Dean. “Let’s just...find a little clearing to put up the tent and then...we’ll hike out in the morning.”

“We don’t know where we are,” you said.

“Please don’t remind me, sweetheart,” said Dean. “Let’s just get out of here. Now.”

Twenty minutes later the sun was fully down and Dean had somehow managed to finish putting up the small tent, the two of you burrowing inside of it, tucked up beside one another.

“What the hell is going on?” you said as Dean pulled out a granola bar for you each and your canteen of water.

“I really don’t want to think about that,” said Dean, taking a bite and chewing quickly.

“It’s got to be Sam. He’s just pulling a prank right? Right?” you said.

“A bit mean for a Sammy prank. Besides, how the hell would he have made the freaking trail disappear? He couldn’t have and I’m…” said Dean, sipping from the canteen.

“What? Scared? Me too, Winchester,” you said.

“Think about it. There are very few reasons all of this could be happening and none of them are good,” he said.

“Do you think it’s a monster?”

“No, I don’t think it’s a monster, Y/N,” said Dean, rolling his eyes. “Why would you even say that?”

“Because we’re in a horror movie,” you said.

“Yeah, well besides monsters, who else is in horror movies? People,” said Dean.

“What are you saying?” you asked.

“I’m saying...I think that...there is someone out here with us,” said Dean.

“You think...Sam?” you said.

“I think my brother...I don’t know where or what or-“ said Dean, cutting himself off when you pressed a finger to his mouth.

“Stop freaking out. Sam is smart and strong. I am sure if something or someone is out there, Sam will get out of this. But I bet he’s just lost too,” you said. “We are both tired and odds are, we’re just lost and nowhere near the trail. In the morning, we wake up, we use a compass and we walk North. We’ll hit route 13 eventually. Okay?”

“Where did our markers go then?” he asked.

“We got twisted around in here and they’re still there. We just got off the trail we were leaving,” you said. You could tell he wanted to believe what you were saying as much as you did. But he only frowned and dug into his backpack.

“Here,” he said, pulling out a knife.

“Dean.”

“Sweetheart. Take it. Please,” he said.

“You should keep it,” you said. “If we need to use it-“

“If we need to use it, I want you to have it. You can run faster than I can anyways,” he said.

“That’s not true,” you said, Dean putting it in your hand.

“Please take it,” he said. You sighed but wrapped your hand around it, tucking the blade into your jean pocket. “Do you want to go to sleep?”

“No,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Me either,” said Dean, wrapping his arm around you. “Morning will be here soon. We’ll find Sam and it’ll be okay.”

You and Dean must have drifted off because you woke up when you head a wailing of some kind right outside the tent.

“What is that?” you whispered, Dean rigid as he grabbed the knife from your pocket.

“Probably an animal,” he whispered, pulling out the blade.

You nodded, neither one of you moving an inch until you saw light start to filter through the tent a few hours later.

“I think it’s light enough,” said Dean as you pulled on your backpack. He pulled down the zipper and everything seemed normal. He stepped outside and you were halfway out the door before his hand caught your coat collar and he tugged you behind him.

You spun and looked behind the tent, tilting your head at the sight.

“Are...are those our markers?” you asked.

“Uh huh,” said Dean, looking around. “Those weren’t there last night.”

“Maybe…” you said, Dean rolling his eyes as you looked around. “Dean. The markers. They’re in a circle. Around the tent.”

“Someone is fucking with us,” said Dean. “Take down the tent fast and we’ll shove it in my bag and then we’re gone.”

You worked quickly and got the tent put away, the two of you quickly using your compass to head North.

Until it started to spin in circles that was.

“Okay. How the fuck is this thing-“

“A magnet,” you said. “If someone really was that close to our tent last night, they could have...wiped it with a magnet while we were sleeping.”

“Yeah well you know what they can’t fuck with? The sun,” said Dean, turning until he found it. “It rose over there so that way is east which makes that North.”

He grabbed your hand and started walking along with you, Dean not slowing down for a second.

“Dean,” you said as he walked, barely getting a glance from him before he was powering through again. “There is someone out here.”

“I know what you’re thinking and no. We aren’t staying to look,” said Dean.

“He’s your brother.”

“Yeah, he is,” said Dean, stopping and making his face hard, some of his panic coming through anyways. “And I’m your boyfriend. Hopefully more than your boyfriend soon if you get what I mean.”

“I know, Dean. I’d really like that too,” you said, a tiny smile crossing his face.

“I was gonna ask at the end of the trip,” he said. “I left the ring in Baby like an idiot.”

“Just ask me now, please,” you said.

“Do you want to marry me?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said, Dean giving you a quick kiss.

“We’re still not gonna die out here,” he said.

“Better safe than sorry,” you said.

“Y/N. We won’t die,” he said.

“Then we need to stay and find Sam,” you said.

“Well now I’m your fiancé and I’m sorry but no. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe. We got no idea who this guy is. He could have a gun. He could hurt you and I’m not risking that,” said Dean. “We get out, we tell the cops and they’ll come here and find Sam.”

“If we do that there’s a chance we don't find him. Maybe I’m scared and it’s dangerous and insane but if we leave, we are not going to find Sam again. I know it,” you said. “If it was me out there, I know you two wouldn’t even be debating this.”

“If it were Sam with you, he would have dragged you out of here by now,” said Dean.

“But I’m with you and we both know I would have worn Sam down eventually,” you said.

“You seriously want to stay out in the creepy woods we’re lost in with what is most likely a serial killer on the off chance we stumble onto Sammy and he’s in a condition to even walk out of here?” said Dean. You looked around, Dean closing his eyes. “Two hours. Two hours and then we start heading out.”

“Two hours.”

“How we doing on water?” you asked as Dean tucked the canteen in his backpack a few hours later.

“There’s a little left. Not much. We were supposed to find the river and refill,” said Dean.

“How could we have gotten so far away from the river?” you asked, cocking your head. “Aside from the someone out here fucking with us thing.”

“I swear if this is somehow Sam pulling an elaborate prank, I’m gonna hug him and then kill him next time I see him,” said Dean. He looked up at the sky and then his watch, taking a deep breath. “Our two hours are up and considering our water situation, we have got to leave.”

“Alright,” you said, giving him a nod. “Should we try leaving him something on the off chance?”

“We’ll leave some granola bars behind,” said Dean. “But I want to get going and fast.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” groaned Dean an hour later, the two of you winding up right at the tree you left the granola bars at. “You know what? Fuck it. Let’s go with you first theory. There is a monster out here fucking with us.”

“Dean. We got turned around somehow is all,” you said.

“We walked in a straight line for an hour! How’d we get turned around!” he shouted.

You were about to make a comment to him about not being so loud but you heard the wailing from the night before, both of you turning around.

“What is that?” you said. “It’s not an animal.”

“I think-“ said Dean, the wailing happening again, much louder and lasting longer this time. “Move. Now.”

You ran past him, Dean running right along with you. You heard a loud crack behind you, looking over your shoulder. You ran straight into Dean, the both of you falling to the ground, rolling down a bank and landing in a ditch.

“You okay?” asked Dean, getting himself to his feet, pulling you up with him.

“Yeah,” you said, Dean putting a hand on your cheek. “Just a scrape.”

“Get out your knife,” said Dean.

You reached your hand into your pocket, pulling out the blade as you turned around.

“You see anything that ain’t me or Sam, you stab that in it,” said Dean.

“Dean you should take…” you trailed off, Dean holding his side. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m just sore, I’m fine,” he said.

“No,” you said, the wailing going off closer this time. “Hey! Asshole! Come and get us!”

“Y/N! What are you doing?” said Dean.

“I’m tired of this and you’re hurt and if this fucking guy doesn’t realize we’re not stuck out here with it, it’s stuck with us, and that I am fucking pissed off, then I’m putting an end to it,” you said. You took a deep breath, your hair standing on end.

Slowly you looked back at Dean, Dean swallowing hard as you stared past him, a cloaked figure not far behind him.

“Dean. Get behind me,” you said.

“I can’t,” said Dean.

“Why?”

“There’s someone behind you,” said Dean.

“There’s more than one person out here,” you said, swallowing as you saw a figure in the corner of your eye.

“Run up the hill,” mumbled Dean. You shook your head, Dean swallowing again. “Please.”

“I’m leaving the knife,” you said.

“No. Just go,” said Dean. “Now. I’ll keep them busy. Just run sweetheart.”

“Come with me,” you whispered.

“I can’t. My ankle is killing me, I can’t run. Please, Y/N,” said Dean, one of the figures seeming to glide forward a step.

“I’m gonna get you out of this,” you said.

“Whatever you’re thinking-“

“Hold on for like two minutes. I promise. I’ll be back,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze before you took off in a sprint for the hill. You heard the three figures converge on Dean as you made a break for it, a figure moving out from behind a tree up ahead. “I was hoping there’d be one of you up here.”

You kept running full force at the thing, knife out as it moved to the side. You smiled as you threw the rock in your other hand at it, the figure’s covered hands going to its face. You nearly tackled it when it tripped backwards over a log.

“Y/N! Stop! Don’t stab me!” was shouted at you, the figure holding its hands up. You knelt down beside it, cocking your head.

“Your motherfucker,” you said, pulling off the hood, a scared looking, very human face looking back. “Gabe. How very nice to see you. Explain before I stab you.”

“Psych project!” he said, shaking your head. “It’s for our research psych project.”

“I see. Again, explain before I stab you,” you said.

“It’ll ruin the test results if I-“‘said Gabe before you punched him in the nuts. “Stress and fear study. Please don’t hurt me.”

“Dean and I just fell down a giant ass hill in the middle of the woods. We could have broken bones, hit our heads-“

“You guys were slightly faster than some other participants. You got out of the working zone so we hadn’t cleared it all…” said Gabe, covering his crotch. “It was Michael’s idea!”

“What are they doing with Dean?” you growled.

“Probably trying to lead him back into the working zone,” said Gabe.

“No, Gabriel,” you said. “It’s done.”

“Also a smart idea,” said Gabe, carefully sitting up and tugging off his cloak. He grabbed the radio from his belt, staring up at you. “Code orange. I repeat, code orange from Gabe.”

“Why is no one responding?” you asked, glaring down at him.

“It’s kind of hard with these costumes on,” he said, glancing at your hand. “Y/N. You can drop the knife now.”

“No,” you said. Gabe started to chuckle but quickly stopped.

“Y/N. It’s a psychology study. That’s it. No one…” he trailed off as you took a step away. “No one’s gonna hurt you or Dean.”

“You tell whoever else it out here that I want Dean back. Now.”

“Hey sweetheart,” said Dean when he limped up the hill, Michael with an arm around him to help him up. You ran over and gave him a hug, catching sight of Nick and Gadreel too. “Pretty sure you scared the shit out of these guys more than they did us.”

“I’m still debating stabbing someone,” you said, glaring over your shoulder.

“Y/N. I’m sorry,” said Gabe. “We’re all sorry.”

“You dickheads better have a four wheeler to drive us back,” you said.

“Yeah. We’ll get it,” said Michael. “Come on. Let’s-“

You shrugged away from him, Michael pausing as you pushed Dean back a step.

“Yeah. Y/N’s not exactly in the mood to be any of our friends ever again,” said Gabe.

“Y/N,” said Michael. “I’ve known you since middle school.”

“I guess I never knew you,” you said, Dean leaning on you. “We got hurt. You guys hurt us. I don’t trust you so until we get out of here, you four stay the hell away from us.”

“We didn’t mean-“

“Guys,” said Dean, giving them a glare of his own. “She’s not the only one that’s pissed. Get us out of here but otherwise, leave us alone.”

“Gadreel, run back and grab the four wheeler. Tell the ranger station we want an ambulance waiting for us when we get down there,” said Michael.

“I still can’t believe you shit heads did that,” you said after you were back at the parking lot, the park paramedic cleaning you and Dean up before they took off. “When I see Sam again, he’s dead.”

“What do you mean when you see Sam again?” asked Gabe.

“She means you guys are psych just like him. He was out there with us and then he disappeared?” scoffed Dean. You saw the guys look at one another, Gabe holding up a hand.

“Uh, Sam’s not involved in our study,” said Gabe. “You’re saying he was out there?”

“Stop lying to us!” you snapped.

“We’re not!” said Michael. “We had no idea Sam was out there.”

“Although that does explain why they kept shouting for Sam,” said Nick.

“Are you assholes saying Sammy’s not with you guys? Then where the fuck did he go!” barked Dean.

“Guys…” said Gadreel, looking around. “We’ll just go over to the ranger’s station and get some help.”

“The ranger left, asshole,” said Dean, putting his hands on his head. “Why the fuck do you think we stayed out there! We were looking for Sam!”

“We’ll go. We’ll take the four wheeler and we’ll hike back up there and we’ll look for him,” said Gabe.

“My brother has been up there, alone, probably hurt and possibly with another deranged nut job and you four aren’t coming back until you bring me my brother!” shouted Dean. They all nodded, quickly heading off and into the woods, Dean leaning against Baby once they left. He switched off the camera on your pack, you doing the same.

“So...this has been a very interesting weekend,” you said, a smile crossing your face.

“Sam so owes us for helping him with his project,” laughed Dean.

“I thought you were a very good actor,” you teased. “How’s your ankle?”

“It’s fine. I wanted to milk it though,” said Dean, walking around you before he started to swing you around in a circle. “I love you.”

“I love you, fiancé,” you said. Dean held up a hand and jogged over to Baby, popping open the glove compartment and returning with a small box.

“Sorry. I got excited out there and sort of popped the question a bit early,” he said.

“It’s kind of a pretty awesome engagement story if you think about it,” you said, Dean slipping a ring on your finger. “It’s beautiful.”

“Reminds me of something else beautiful,” said Dean.

“You two are disgusting,” you both heard, Sam chuckling as he popped out of the rangers station. “Did you survive your night of horror?”

“I’ll admit, I would have been pretty scared if we didn’t know ahead of time what those guys were planning to do,” you said.

“This is some pretty good revenge though,” said Dean. “So besides freaking your friends out, what else do you have planned for them in there?”

“Creepy sounds, shadows. I’ll stick around so they don’t call the cops or anything. A psych project on a group of guys doing a psych project was pretty fun,” said Sam.

“Probably a smart idea,” you said, tilting your head. “Hey, how’d those guys move our granola bars so fast? I thought Gabe said we got ahead of them.”

“...I didn’t do that,” said Sam.

“Sammy,” said Dean. “It’s us. We can know the secret.”

“I thought those guys moved them,” said Sam, looking back at the woods.

“You got your walkie?” you asked, Sam nodding as he took it out of his backpack. You changed the channel, sighing before you hit the button. “Guys. It’s Y/N. Come back to the station. Now.”

There was radio silence, your hand running over your face.

“Come again?” you finally heard Gabe say.

“Come back to the station. Please,” you said, Sam nodding. “Sam’s here. We’ll explain but just come back. We think there’s a chance someone is out there that we don’t know about.”

“If I’m talking to Y/N, then who the hell is that?” you heard Gabe say quietly. There was some kind of wailing sound over the radio before you heard foot steps.

“Join your friends,” said a voice eerily similar to your own. “Return to the forest.”

“What is that?” asked Dean.

“I’m whatever I want to be,” it said, now using Dean’s voice. “I was with you the whole time. Playing with you and your friends was fun but then you left. No one leaves.”

“Sam, tell us this is part of the project,” you said as you turned to him.

“It’s part of my project,” said Sam with a strange smile. Dean immediately pushed you behind him, Sam smiling at you both. “I can reunite you with your brother.”

“What’d you do to Sam?” asked Dean, motioning for you to get in the car.

“Return to the forest and I’ll show you,” he said, lifting his chin.

“No. You can’t do jack squat to us here, can you,” said Dean.

“I can do things to Samuel, to your other friends,” he said, his lip twitching. “Return to the forest or you will never see them again. I always like new friends but I will keep them around far longer than necessary if need be.”

“Maybe we just kill you,” said Dean.

“Go ahead,” it said, eyes changing to just a bit too unhuman like for you. “I am in there. This is a way to speak only. If you want to kill me, you must go inside.”

“I think it’s a ghost,” you said.

“Far worse,” it said. “Decide. If I do not feel your presence by nightfall, they are lost.”

The Sam in front of you disappeared, Dean taking a deep breath.

“I was really hoping that he was just screwing with us,” said Dean, leaning back against the car. “What the hell…”

“I think it’s a poltergeist,” you said.

“It was just pretending...that’s it, we’re nuts. We’ve gone insane,” said Dean. You grabbed his hand, Dean looking down at it.

“We’re not nuts. What did you tell me about these woods when Sam brought this up a month ago?” you said.

“Aren’t those the woods that are supposedly haunted?” said Dean.

“Exactly. Maybe they are haunted. Maybe it’s a super elaborate psychology experiment. Whatever it is, I say we go into that rangers station, try to figure out how to get rid of a poltergeist and then go kick it’s ass,” you said.

“You want to go fight an evil ghost?” said Dean. “Why not? Might as well. This is by and far the strangest day of my life already. Might as well be a ghostbuster on top of it.”

“You came,” you heard behind you a few hours later. You and Dean both spun around, suddenly in a different place, an underground cellar of some kind. It smelled horrible and you could hear tiny muffled sounds coming from behind you. “See? I told you gentlemen your other friends would join us.”

You didn’t take your eyes off the Sam replica in front of you, not entirely sure you wanted to see what was behind you yet.

“Dean and I talked and...we’re willing to stay, willingly…” you swallowed, Sam walking in front of you, looking down with cold eyes.

“If you’re not an asshole to us, we will...do what you ask,” said Dean. Sam smirked and walked in front of him, getting right in his face.

“You are mine now. I will do as I please. Your discomfort pleases me as does your fear,” he said, Dean turning away, nearly whimpering when it moved closer. “You think you’re afraid now? You will beg to be this fearful again soon enough.”

“I’m not afraid of…” said Dean, freezing as Sam lowered his head to Dean’s ear.

“I’ll save you for last. Let you see your nightmares first,” it said.

“Hey, dick,” you said, spraying your water bottle on it, the thing retching back. Dean started talking, the thing going after him but you sprayed it again, the area around you fading back to trees. You kept spraying as Dean spoke, the thing tossing him aside but Dean didn’t stop until you felt yourself get tossed aside.

You groaned and opened your eyes, Dean pulling you to your feet in the woods, all of your friends suddenly around.

“Freaking carry her,” said Michael. Someone hoisted you up and you groaned again, wincing when you spotted Sam close by.

“It’s gone. We got it,” said Dean. “You five move it. Now.”

“How’s she doing?” asked Sam a short while later. You’d driven to the parking lot of a Denny’s, the guys all more than freaked out as Dean looked you over in the backseat. “Is she-“

“I’m fine. Just a little sore,” you said, Dean helping you to your feet. “I am tired and hungry and thirsty and I just killed a poltergeist so I’m going into that Denny’s and ordering a grand slam. You boys are welcome to join me.”

“Okay,” said Dean, grabbing your hand, the other guys just watching you. “Guys. Let’s go get some food and everybody can calm down, okay?”

They nodded and followed you inside, the seven of you sliding into the round corner booth. After Dean ordered for everyone and you’d chugged more than a few glasses of water, you saw Sam lean back in his seat.

“I’m going back to my anxiety based project. Screw this whole thing,” said Sam.

“So what happened before…” said Gabe.

“I was doing a project on people that think they’re in control when actually, they aren’t. Dean and Y/N knew what you four were up to the whole time,” said Sam. “They were just acting.”

“Cool. So um, I’m more interested in knowing where the fuck we went,” said Nick.

“It’s…” said Sam. You caught his shaking hand under the table, Sam relaxing at the touch.

“He doesn’t have to talk about it if he doesn’t want to,” you said.

“It’s a passway,” said Dean, flickering his eyes to make sure the waitress wasn’t close. “Y/N and I looked it up while we were scouring the internet for how to kill a poltergeist.”

“I also know how to make water holy now,” you said. “And Dean’s Latin class paid off.”

“Yeah, so we got rid of it. Technically sent it back to Hell,” said Dean. “So as long as nobody here does anything too horrible for the rest of their lives, I wouldn’t worry about running into it again.”

“You’re saying Hell is real?” said Gadreel.

“Yes. That thing is pure evil apparently and that’s where it’s from. There are these passways all over the place but these guys get kind of stuck to a certain area,” said Dean. “Like a house or area of a forest.”

“There was a cult way back in the day in this area. Big devil worshippers. They killed a guy out in the woods in an underground cellar as an offering. That’s how the woods got the reputation of being haunted. People would go missing in there. As time went on and the land was made into a park, that area was zoned off and people stopped going there so no more disappearances. Until your little science projects got us off the trail and into this thing’s territory,” you said.

“So we were kidnapped by a demon,” said Michael.

“Kinda,” you said with a shrug.

“So that stuff is real. Awesome. Good to know,” said Gabe.

“Why did you come back?” asked Sam, turning to you and Dean.

“We weren’t gonna leave you guys out there,” you said.

“Plus, we totally kicked a ghost’s ass. That was pretty awesome,” said Dean. Sam nodded, giving your hand a squeeze as your food came out. He was more quiet than the other guys, the others eventually piling back into their car and heading back to their place after deciding to never talk about what happened again.

“Hey, Sammy? Want to stay with us tonight?” you asked as you walked back to the car, Sam still holding your hand.

“Yeah,” he said, looking over at Dean and you when he got to the back door. “Thank you. Both of you.”

“That thing is gone. I promise,” said Dean.

“I was gone up there like a day? A little more? That thing messed with...it felt like I was gone a month,” said Sam, a small quiver in his body.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked.

“I want to...I want to go back,” said Sam.

“Back? No way, Sammy. That thing is gone but-“ said Dean, Sam cutting him off with a look.

“I’m bored of you two,” he said. You tilted your head, the scenery changing around you, a cellar re-emerging in front of you. You groaned and sat up, your water bottle on the floor, Dean sitting up wearily, something black covering his mouth, feeling something similar cover your own.

Turning right you saw the guys and Sam, all of them staring wide eyed at you.

“That...was a minute,” said the poltergeist, still the spitting image of Sam as it leaned down in front of you. “A minute of playtime. It will be worse. Much much worse. When you’re so broken you’re nothing but a begging mess that can’t tell the truth from fiction, then I kill all but one of you. I’ll keep my favorite. You may know my current favorite. Your medical friend from the ambulance. He is boring now though so I sent him off to open more gates for my friends. One of you can be my new friend here though.”

You stared up at him and pulled out your knife, stabbing into it.

“Fuck, Y/N,” groaned Dean beside you as you took a deep breath. You were sitting up in the tent and panting, Sam mumbling in his sleeping bag beside you. You watched him blink open his eyes, cocking his head. “Bad nightmare?”

“Where are we?” you asked.

“Camping at the state park. It’s dawn. Please go back to sleep,” grumbled Sam.

“I want to go home,” you said, staring at Dean. “Now.”

“Y/N, baby. It’s just a nightmare,” said Dean. You felt your eyes well up, Dean sitting up quickly. “Okay, okay. We’ll go.”

“You two can leave. I’m sleeping more,” said Sam.

“Awesome,” you said, tearing open the tent flap, nearly jerking back when you saw a tent right outside your own. “Who is that?”

“Some of our friends we went camping with?” said Dean. “Are you okay?”

You climbed out of the tent and looked around, narrowing your eyes.

“Don’t try to trick me, asshole,” you said. You found yourself back in the cellar, flying across the room and landing beside Dean. He ripped the knife out of your hand and you heard him grumble as he cut through the gag, the black thing on his mouth falling away.

“Adinos,” said Dean. The room flashed a bright white for a moment before it and the Sam had disappeared. The air felt less oppressive when it was gone, Dean leaning back before he cut the make shift gag off your mouth. “Dude should have known better than to try and say Sammy wanted to sleep in.”

“Thank you,” you said as you sat back, Dean checking you over quickly before he went to the guys and cut them loose.

“I want to go home,” said Gabe. “Fuck school and the study and all that.”

“Alright, stop freaking out,” said Dean. “This room exists so we’ll figure out how to get out of here real soon.”

“No fucking way,” you said, all six of them staring at you. “One of you can crawl down the creepy ass death tunnel, not me.”

“We’re all too big to fit, Y/N,” said Sam. You looked at Gabe, getting his best bitch face in return.

“My shoulder is dislocated, genius,” he said.

“If you dickheads never came up with this stupid as fuck and frankly unethical project, we wouldn’t be out here! You know what, we live through this, all of you are doing your project on something sane like...stupid college boys,” you said. “Also, I’m not going in there.”

“Y/N,” sighed Dean. “The research we found said that they-“

“They maybe built this fucking tunnel as a way to get down here, for air, and down to the pit where they did their hell stuff,” you said. You walked over to the hatch in the ceiling, staring up at it. “I’m sure-“

“We got to be underground at least six feet. We can’t dig out,” said Dean.

“So either Y/N goes or we all die,” said Michael as he gave you a hopefully smile.

“I expect fucking amazing wedding presents from all of you,” you grumbled, going back to the tunnel entrance.

“Just follow it out. Use your phone for light,” said Dean.

“Okay,” you said, getting a big kiss from him.

“You’ll be okay,” he said, kissing your forehead.

“How you doing Sammy?” you asked, Sam glancing up from where he was sat on the ground.

“Thirsty,” he said with a smile. “I’m okay.”

“Here,” said Dean, pulling off his flannel and helping you wrap it around your head. “Hopefully you can breathe better in there.”

“I’ll see you boys soon. I hope,” you said, swallowing as you took the knife in one hand and the phone in the other. You got down to the hole and crawled inside. It was pitch black and made of compact dirt from the looks of it. Slowly you made your way through, eventually losing the sound of the guys encouraging you.

You tried to be fast but you found yourself at a crossroads quickly. One way went left, the other right.

“Please not the creepy hell pit, please not the creepy hell pit,” you said as you went right. The battery on your phone was set to die soon and you really didn’t want to get lost down there without it.

The tunnel started to slope upwards which you took as a good sign, even if it made crawling harder. You weren’t sure how far you’d gone when you got to an open space. It was pitch black but if you had to guess, was hidden in the back of a cave. Using your phone, you looked around, spotting a hatch you were guessing led to the cellar. You flung it open, sighing as you saw it’d caved in with dirt.

“Naturally,” you said, tilting your head back. “Okay. I will be right back boys. Just got to get some gear first.”

“Where is he?” you heard in the darkness. You screamed and used your phone, catching sight of the paramedic, his face off colored. “Where is he?”

“He won’t hurt you anymore, okay?” you said. He twitched his eye, taking a step forward. “He’s gone. He won’t hurt you, again.”

“He was my friend,” he said. “You took my friend, didn’t you.”

“You don’t have to do what he wants anymore, you can-” you got out before he lunged at you, grabbing your throat, pulling a knife out of his pocket.

“People have sent him away before. My friend is smart. He taught me how to bring him back. I always bring him back and when I do, he’s very pleased with me,” he said. You kneed him and barely missed the slash to your neck, your phone getting turned over in the dark, your knife somewhere on the ground but you couldn’t see it. You had a feeling he was used to living in the dark though and quickly sprinted the direction of the rest of the cave. You ran for what felt like a mile until you saw some daylight.

Once you were out in the forest again, you saw the sun starting to set and heard the paramedic. You caught your breath as he stood in the cave entrance, smirking when you realized he wasn’t coming out.

“Afraid of a little sunlight?” you said, the paramedic twitching his eye again.

“There are others in the cellar. I will dig it out and then slaughter them,” he said. “Or I will wait seven minutes and then track you down in these woods. I have lived here a very long time. I know them far better than-”

“You were in the sun earlier,” you said, the paramedic narrowing his eyes.

“...He allowed me to leave,” he said.

“No. He’s filled your head with lies. He can only control you so much and he’s gone. You can leave, buddy. You can…” you said as he stepped out from the entrance, looking around before setting his eyes on you. “Okay. I was supposed to convince you to be a nice person again before you did that.”

“If you assist me, we can be...friends,” he said.

“I will help you,” you said, watching the surprise on his face. “I want to be friends. We...those boys down there got me into this mess. I’m angry with them. If you let me leave and get some equipment, we can dig them out quickly and get our other friend back. Can I do that?”

“I will assist you,” he said. You swallowed but nodded, the paramedic walking past you, hopefully towards the rangers station.

Half an hour later you hit the parking lot, your hands on your knees as you caught your breath. He glared back at you as you stood upright.

“Your human needs will no longer be of consequence soon. He will make it so,” said the paramedic.

“Awesome,” you said, walking across the lot towards the station. “So does that mean I won’t age? Or die?”

“You will not age,” he said, kicking down the door with ease.

“When were you born?” you asked.

“I’ve forgotten,” he said.

“You’re not a chatty guy, huh,” you said, stepping into the station and looking around.

“He doesn’t allow speaking,” he said. “You will learn.”

“We need shovels, flashlights, backpacks. You know what those are?” you asked. He nodded and started to look around. You got some water from the sink in the bathroom, splashing your face off.

“I found the equipment,” he said, popping up in the doorway.

“Give me a minute. I’m not super human yet,” you said.

“What is super human? He won’t like that,” said the paramedic.

“You know, like powerful. Extra strength, can’t die, can heal fast, stuff like that,” you said.

“I can not do those things,” he said. “Can you?”

“No. It was a joke. Forget it. Let’s pack up,” you said, nodding to yourself as you spotted a knife on the cabin’s wall.

He could die. He’d keep killing people to bring back that thing as long as he was around. So far you hadn’t seen a shred of a person left in there.

You grabbed the knife when he headed outside, tucking it in your back pocket. You made sure you had plenty of water for Sam and the guys, hoping that somehow your luck would start to turn around.

“You’re kind of relentless,” you said as you took a break from digging in the cave, the paramedic still going, his hands bloody from the non stop work. “So, back in the day...were you in this cult or were you one of the sacrifices?”

“I killed my brother,” he said.

“...Okay,” you said. “Was he in this cult too?”

“I don’t recall,” he said, his shovel hitting something hard. “We’re-”

You leaped on top of him, closing your eyes as you used the knife. You crashed on top of him quickly, the weight too much for the hatch and you felt yourself fall straight through, landing on top of the paramedic when you hit the ground below. You pulled your knife out of him, six frightened faces staring back from the side of the cellar.

“It’s been a hell of a day,” you said as you stood up.

“Did you just…” said Dean.

“I don’t think he’s been a person for a very long time. I hope he’s better wherever he winds up,” you said. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before somebody else dies.”

“So you kids want to tell me exactly what happened?” asked the park ranger, the seven of you sat on the ground in the parking lot an hour later.

“We went camping,” you said. “We got lost.”

“The damage to the ranger’s station?” he asked.

“Wasn’t us,” said Dean. “We’ve been in the woods the whole time.”

“Well who exactly was it? You seven are the only registered park guests up here,” he said.

“It wasn’t-”

“You seven are banned for life, got it?” he said.

“I think we’re okay with that,” you said, Dean smirking besides you. “Can we go home?”

“Yes,” he said as he walked away.

“How do we know it’s over?” asked Gabe.

“It’s not,” you said, all of their heads turning to yours. “I mean, this thing and it’s follower? Yeah, those are gone but there are other passways out there and I’m sure there’s more of these things out there too.”

“We could try to get rid of other things out there,” said Sam. “We know how to now.”

“Maybe we will. After we rest up. We all need it and you especially,” said Dean. Sam nodded, Dean throwing an arm over his shoulders. “Right now, let’s just go home. Oh and guys. I think this goes without saying but we are never going camping again.”

“Agreed,” you heard the group say, your head resting against Dean’s shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“I will be.”

______

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn #au

292 notes · View notes

ambersky0319 · 5 years

Text

You Have Us

Pairings : Platonic! Intruloceit , Logince? Like, ended Logince

Warnings : Cheating; Unsympathetic Roman(I mean he could be worse but he's the one who cheated basically); Sympathetic Remus, Deceit, and Logan

A/N : Okay so this was originally gonna be Intrulogical but I just hhhjsgdgd I really wanted some good ol' platonic stuff for a bit

Masterpost

----------------------

Logan took off his glasses so he could wipe his eyes, the steady stream of tears seeming forever. His breaths were ragged and his heart raced, eyes puffy from a long time crying. But he was in a safe place now, he didn't need to worry about Roman or whoever he had found in bed with his boyfriend. He didn't have to think about or worry about it now. He couldn't, if he did, he feared he might feel even worse.

Yelling from a room down the hall made Logan curl in on himself slightly, and his friend's roommate sat beside him on he couch. "Hey, it's totally not going to be alright." He said, reaching out to rub his back slowly.

The liar frowned slightly as Logan only continued to tremble. He felt bad. He might not know Logan well- he'd only met Logan twice before- but that wouldn't stop his heart from hurting, knowing exactly how Logan must feel.

"How would you know?" Logan mumbled, sniffing and wiping his eyes again. He put his glasses back on to look at Damien.

Damien bit his lip slightly, and the yelling quieted in the other room. "You have Remus as a friend, and me too I suppose. Things will get better one way or another." Logan stared at Damien, a man he barely knew, but he felt comforted by the look in his mismatched eyes.

Remus came back into the living room, his anger slowly fading as he plopped on the couch beside Logan and pulled him into a hug. Logan accepted the embrace, tucking his head under Remus' chin. He was safe. He wouldn't get hurt physically or emotionally here.

The couch shifted, and Logan tilted his head to watch Damien disappear down the hall, probably to his room. Remus' arms tightened around Logan.

"I'm sorry about Roman." Remus said softly, and Logan turned his gaze up to him. Remus was looking at the blank tv screen though. "I'm really sorry that you had to see him cheating on you."

Logan hummed lightly, his breathing was still slightly short, but it was calming now. His tears had faded quickly as well. But he didn't doubt there'd be more in the morning.

He hugged himself closer to Remus. "It's not your fault." Logan said. "Don't apologize for his actions."

"Right." Remus muttered. "Want to watch a documentary to get your mind off it?"

Logan nodded silently, and Remus grabbed the remote to find something Logan would like.

Logan awoke in a foreign bed, the smell of pancakes wafting through the house. He yawned and grabbed his glasses, glancing around the room. He was alone, underneath a bunch of soft blankets with all kinds of designs.

The walls were a dark green, and on a blank wall, a mural of a bright green octopus with black and shades of green markings. The other walls were covered in shelves or pictures, a morning star on one of the shelves among some other disturbing niknaks.

He concluded it was Remus' room, but where was Remus?

Logan climbed out of the bed, stumbling slightly from lack of water. He carefully made his way to the door, and made sure he was close to the wall just in case he did pass out. He was making his way towards the kitchen when he heard talking, and he stopped to listen, debating just maybe going back to the bed.

"Don't fret about Logan, Rem. He's strong, he'll make it through this." Damien.

"Yeah! I know! But you saw him last night, and you know what it's like to see someone cheating on you." Remus seemed to accuse Damien, who just grumbled something.

"Sorry," Remus said after a few seconds of silence. "I'm just worried is all. And angry. I'm still very angry at Roman."

Damien laughed lightly. "Who wouldn't be? Your brother hurt one of your best friends- that's just shitty of him."

Remus hummed in agreement, and their conversation seemed to end. Logan took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen, and Remus looked up from his plate while Damien kept his eyes on what he was cooking.

"Logan!" Remus jumped out of his seat and hugged Logan tightly, and Logan felt as if he might faint. "How ya doing?"

"Lot better if I could- breathe-" Remus let go quickly, eyes wide and he apologized. Logan smiled at him reassuringly. "Thanks, and I'm doing..." he trailed off, unsure what word to use.

"Meh?" Damien offered from his place at the stove. Logan nodded.

"Yeah, that."

Silence fell over them and Logan sat down, Remus already placing a water bottle in front of Logan. Logan smiled up thankfully and ran a hand through his hair, only messing it up more as he drank his water. He was too tired to hear Remus take in a shaky breath, and soon pancakes were placed in front of him.

It was far too soon that Logan had to check his phone, many missed calls and voicemails mixing in with the rest of his notifications. Along eith them though, he saw at least twenty messages from Roman, and Logan bit his lip harshly. He didn't seem to notice the slight taste of blood as his jaw clenched and he tensed up.

Remus looked up from his own phone, watching Logan for a moment. Watching as his friend drew blood from his own lip and how it seemed his nails dug into his palm. Remus set aside his own phone and moved to Logan's side of the couch, reading the texts over Logan's shoulder.

Remus glared at the phone upon seeing texts a mix of pleading for forgiveness and anger that were directed at Logan for being 'too sensitive' about this. Logan leaned back into Remus' touch as Remus began to rub Logan's shoulders.

Logan's shoulders slumped and he set his phone aside. He really didn't want to deal with Roman right now. It was still too soon for him. His heart still ached and he still felt as if he had been stabbed with a knife multiple times in the back.

"I'm sorry." Remus mumbled as Logan leaned closer, Remus' arms wrapping around Logan's torso protectively.

Logan glanced at him, frowning slightly. "I told you not to apologize for his awful decisions, they were not your doings."

Remus didn't look at Logan at first, only nodding slightly. "What are you going to do about it?"

He was silent for a moment. "I don't know. But I'll figure it out."

Remus nodded again. "I understand. Take your time." Remus whispered.

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sailoryue · 5 years

Text

Howlin' for you

(based on a prompt by @merelypassingtime Eddie has a dark secret he's been keeping from Venom for a few months, one he's absolutely ashamed. When he is no longer able to keep it, how will that effect their bond?

.*-*-*-*-*-*

Symbiosis was generally a two-way street. Venom needed Eddie to survive on Earth, and while Eddie did not need Venom to survive normally, Venom allowed Eddie use of his abilities to take out bad guys. Such as the thug that used to extort Mrs Chen. Between them, there were no secrets. Save for one.

*-*-*-*-*

Shortly after Venom had fully recovered from the explosion, nearly a month after the event itself, Eddie’s demeanor had changed and he had pretty much begged Venom for this one secret.

“Please, V,” he had started. “I don’t ask for a lot. Just please let me have this one.”

At the time, Venom had not understood. And even now, he still did not understand. But in the end, he allowed Eddie his secret. Sure, if he wanted, he could just pull the thoughts by force, much like how he did in the beginning of their union. And Eddie knew it. But things were different now. There was trust; and Venom VALUED trust, unlike most of his species. No matter how curious he was, he would not break that trust.

The whole secret thing wasn't all bad. One full day a month he got to be with Annie, and Venom loved her very much. Hell he even eventually grew to tolerate and even like Dan. Not that he had much of a choice, given how Anne refused to allow any ill thoughts about her boyfriend.

Regardless, these once a month visits were fun. Both Anne and Dan always made sure to engage him in conversations and always had the best chocolate. Even tho he did not understand why, he eventually grew to look forward to these outings. Venom knew Anne knew the reason for these trade-offs, and tried asking her about it, but even she put her foot down and refused to give any hints. She said it wasn’t her secret to tell, and Venom accepted that. Even tho the secrets hurt.

Venom started to wonder if Eddie was getting tired of their bond. He usually got tired and edgy when they got close to the point in the month when the exchange happened, and was usually happier when he returned. He just wished that Eddie could just trust him with the reasons that he needed these breaks.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Venom never expected to ever get his wish.

One month, when it was the time Eddie usually arranged to meet with Anne for the meet-up for the switch, Venom noticed that Eddie was more on edge than usual.

Eddie had tried to get ahold of Anne for the past hour.

“Ah, finally! Annie, I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Where do you want to meet to do the exchange?”

　 “Eddie, I thought I’d told you. Dan is at a medical conference in San Diego. We’re out of town for the week.” There was a lot of background noise so Anne had to speak loudly. 　

Venom noted the spike in Eddie’s pulse. Usually he didn’t pay attention to this monthly conversation, they usually went about the same. But obviously something was different this time. 　

“But what about… my issue?” Eddie asked in a rushed voice. 　

“I’m sorry, I swear I thought I told you. Maybe its time you told Venom?” 　

Eddie let out a defeated sigh. “Yeah, maybe. Sorry to bother you then Anne. You guys enjoy your trip.”

“Good luck, Eddie.” 　

As he hung up the phone, Eddie let out a curse under his breath.

　 IS SOMETHING WRONG EDDIE?

　 Venom could feel a sense of defeat coming from Eddie as he rubbed a hand over his face.

　 “It’s…nothing V.” Eddie said with a sigh. “You were bound to find out anyways.”

　 FIND OUT WHAT?

　 Eddie’s watch went off. “Damn, we don’t have as much time as I thought.”

　 TIME FOR WHAT, EDDIE? WHAT IS GOING ON?

　 Eddie didn’t answer the question immediately, instead grabbed a set of motorcycle saddle bags and his helmet.

　 EDDIE ARE WE GOING SOMEWHERE?

　 Eddie locked up and headed down the stairs to the parking lot.

"Yeah. We have to head upstate. It’s a six hour ride. Look, V, I give you permission to look in my memories for what I do every month, where I go. Look in my memories for ‘werewolves.’ I know you’ll probably have questions, but please don’t ask them while we drive. I’ll answer them when we get to our destination.“ 　

Eddie’s request worried Venom a little, but he agreed to it. The ride was fairly uneventful. Eddie’s mind was swimming with worry. Why? What was this about a werewolf? Venom tried to find the answer, but the more he dug the more questions he ended up having. What was this all about? 　

Before long, they got to where Eddie wanted to be. He pulled off on to a trail and continued on as the road grew rougher and rougher, until Eddie had to walk the bike the rest of the way he wanted to go. Eventually they reached their destination, a clearing in the forest near a small lake.

　 The wooded area was quiet. Peaceful. Earth certainly had such beauty on it. Venom was glad they were able to prevent the invasion.

　 EDDIE, WE STILL DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT IS GOING ON. WE LOOKED INTO YOUR MEMORIES AND THE ONLY THING ABOUT WEREWOLVES WE COULD FIND IS FROM MOVIES AND THAT DOES NOT HELP US WITH THE BLANK SPOTS IN YOUR MEMORY WHEN WE TRIED TO FIND OUT WHY YOU COME HERE EVERY MONTH.

　 "You can’t see it? Damn, I was hoping you could tell me.” Eddie sighed as he parked the bike next to a tree, taking the keys out and hiding them in a knot. He opened one of the saddlebags, which was empty, and methodically removed his clothes, placing them in the bag. Venom knew this was almost ritual, going by what he had seen in Eddie’s memories. He had seen that every month Eddie did this, ending with placing all of his bracelets and ring on top of the pile of clothes, and closing the bag with a snap.

　 EDDIE, WHAT IS A WEREWOLF?

　 “Basically, it’s a curse. It happened when I was a kid, I was attacked by what I thought was a dog, but it was something much worse.” Eddie paused looking up at the darkening sky.

　 WE STILL DO NOT UNDERSTAND, EDDIE. WHAT IS A CURSE? WHAT HAPPENED WHEN YOU WERE A CHILD?

　 “It means I’m going to transform. I don’t really have a choice, and there’s not enough time to really explain it. I’m sorry, V.” Eddie walked away from his stuff to the other side of the clearing. “I should have told you sooner instead of you finding out this way.” 　

Venom was beginning to feel on edge. Something felt wrong with them.

　 EDDIE? WHAT IS GOING ON?

　 “I’m about to transform. I’m sorry I never told you. I don’t know if I’ll be able to talk to you after I turn. I’ll explain in the morning, I promise I–” He trailed off into a grunt, doubling over in pain.

　 EDDIE?

　 The sun had finished setting and the moon, bright and full rose up. And for a moment, Eddie blacked out.

　 *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 　

As far as Venom could tell, their unconsciousness lasted only a few minutes. But as their mind cleared, Venom realized that something was very wrong.

　 EDDIE??

　 There was no response. Venom could sense that while he was still IN Eddie, Eddie was very, very different. Venom took stock over their body to try to see what had happened. 　

To start, their body was no longer human. Instead it was wolf like. Venom had seen many documentaries on wolves, (what else do you do when your host needs six to eight hours of sleep at night?) and from what he could tell, Eddie was much bigger and meaner than the wolves he had seen on Animal Planet.

　 Venom tried looking into Eddie’s mind and noticed the senses were very much different. Their hearing, smell and sight were much sharper, even than their monstrous Venom form; keener than even any host Venom ever had.

　 WHAT HAPPENED TO US, EDDIE?

　 Still no response, tho venom knew that wolf-Eddie heard the question. For some reason this creature they had become would not, could not answer. Instead, they took off running, deeper into the woods. 　

Venom knew it would be futile to ask Eddie where they were going. Instead he just sat back and watched as the wolf smelled around. He didn’t try to achieve symbiosis just yet. He did not want to cause harm to Eddie. Not again. He needed to be patient and observe and take this acclimation slower, to not be detrimental towards the very different biorythms.

　 SO…WHAT NOW, EDDIE?

　 Tho the creature Eddie became made know acknowledgement of Venom, he seemed to be aware of his presense. But considering the strange voice did not seem to be a threat, it went ignored. 　

Venom soon realized that what Eddie was doing was hunting. Venom could tell just by how the creature acted. It was both similar and different to how THEY acted when they stalked bad guys, but it was more skilled.

　 LET’S SEE HOW YOU HUNT ALONE, EDDIE.

　 Venom did not broadcast the words thru the bond, not wanting to disturb his host this time. He watched in silence as the wolf-creature smelled for and stalked a prey animal in the forest. He was impressed at how quickly they found a target, a female deer that was minding its own business, and was proud at how quickly Eddie took it down.

　 YOU MAKE A VERY GOOD PREDATOR, EDDIE.

　 Given the skill at it Venom wondered if this was why Eddie wasn’t too far against their need for hunting and live prey. While they started to enjoy their meal, Venom sensed danger near. But what? 　

His got his answer really quick as a bear came out to the clearing they were in. Eddie-wolf growled at the bear that was much, much bigger than them, and the bear growled in response. Venom could sense fear and anger from Eddie as they quickly backed down and fled.

　 WHY EDDIE? WE CAN JUST AS EASILY TAKE THAT DOWN, CAN’T WE?

　 For the first time, Venom got a response to his commentary and flashes of memories came from their mind. The bear constantly attacking and stealing Eddie’s prey, and how the first time Eddie had tried to take down the bear he barely managed to get away. That allowed Venom to connect the dots on another memory. Just a few months ago, he had found Eddie returned from his 'excursions’ with bad scarring that he tried to brush off as an accident on his bike, but considering it was during Eddie’s 'secret vacations’ he didn’t look to far into it. As far as he could tell, this bear had for the past several months stolen Eddie’s prey. That won’t do at all.

　 WE CAN BE SO MUCH BETTER EDDIE. TOGETHER WE CAN TAKE DOWN THIS BEAR FOR ALWAYS STEALING.

　 Venom finally managed to finish re-bonding with Eddie and showed the wolf a beast they could be together. At most he could just feel hunger from the wolf, but also a want. A want to take down a big prey, to eat and be full. And finally agreement.

　 EXCELLENT!

　 And at that, Venom surrounded Eddie much like the first time they transformed to fight Carlton Drake’s goons. Soon the wolf was much bigger and more deadly than ever, with longer, sharper claws, and deadly teeth. There was a taste of glee and death on their mouth. There was a rush of adrenaline and elation almost, ready to take down anything. And they took off on the hunt.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Eddie slowly woke from his slumber, the sun was just starting to rise, warming the area. He felt the usual soreness he felt after his monthly transformation, no longer feeling the tiredness that usually happened right before. The transformations usually felt close to healing, even though they were extremely draining the day of. He stretched, feeling every muscle pull and every joint pop, glad to be human again and he rolled to his back so he could stare at the sky which was slowly lightening. It was only then as his mind fully came awake that he realized….

MORNING EDDIE.

Eddie sat up with a start. “Venom! You’re still here.”

WHY WOULD I NOT BE?

Eddie sighed. “It’s not that, I had no idea what the transformation would…” He trailed off looking down at his hands that he was about to rub his face on, noting the dried stiffness they had. He then looked around and noticed the destruction around them. He jumped quickly to his feet, running away from what obviously used to be a bear, shouting a curse. “What the hell happened??”

WE TOOK DOWN THE BEAR THAT KEEPS STEALING YOUR FOOD.

“You took… wait how?” Eddie walked away from the nightmare that was before him. He looked down and noted that he was also covered in this mess, so he headed towards he lake.

TOGETHER. WE FORMED OUR VENOM FORM, ALBIET IT WAS DIFFERENT IN YOUR WOLF FORM. DO YOU WANT TO SEE HOW?

Eddie held up his hands. “I’ll… take your word for it V. Thanks. That bear’s been stealing the other me’s food for a while now, according to the park rangers it migrated down from the mountains and they’ve been trying to figure how to get it back up. Guess that’s a moot point now, huh”

Eddie let out a derisive laugh as he stepped into the cool water of the lake.

EDDIE, WHAT EXACTLY IS A WEREWOLF? WE SAW US TURN INTO A WOLF LIKE CREATURE, BUT THAT WAS NOTHING LIKE THE IMAGES FROM THE HORROR MOVIES WE WATCH.

“Hmm? Oh, right. Well like I said last night, its pretty much a curse. When I was a kid, I went to a camp out with some friends. Though I wouldn’t really call them my friends, since… you know about how hard I struggled with that.” Eddie shrugged and started to wipe off the mess from the night before. “One night, I was attacked by what I had thought was an ordinary wolf. A month later I started to get really sick. And the bite wound started burning really bad. My dad of course just thought I was being a pussy about it, pretending to be sick.”

Eddie finished cleaning himself and started swimming to fully wake up.

“Luckily my sister was into monster movies and books and she had a hunch that maybe what bit me was a werewolf. She locked me in the basement on the night of the full moon. She stayed nearby just in case I WASN’T a werewolf. Fortunately my dad was drunk as usual and didn’t pay us any mind. Unfortunately she was right on her hunch.”

WE STILL DO NOT QUITE UNDERSTAND EDDIE. WHAT DOES ALL OF THIS MEAN?

Eddie walked to the edge of the pond, where he knew there was a log to sit on. “Once a month, on the night of the full moon I have to transform into that creature you saw last night. I come out here to make sure I can’t hurt anyone. If I bite anyone they would be cursed as well, and I can’t let that happen.”

WHY?

“Why?” Eddie splashed his face to cool it down. “You saw what I became, what we became. That kind of creature is far more dangerous than probably even Riot. Hell I had no idea what this would even do to us!”

US? IS THIS WHY YOU HAD US BE WITH ANNIE WHEN YOU TRANSFORMED?

Eddie sighed. “Yeah, man I didn’t know how this would effect our bond; if we would be able to handle this.” Eddie trailed off as he caught the tail end of a feeling that quickly vanished. "V…. what was that?“

IT WAS NOTHING EDDIE.

"V, were you worried that i was trying to get rid of you?”

OF COURSE NOT EDDIE.

Eddie could tell his symbiotic friend was lying.

“V… Come out. Let me see you, right here.” Eddie held his hands side by side in front of his face.

Venom formed a snake like form right where Eddie requested, his face ended up being inches from his.

“V, listen. There is nothing in this world that that could ever convince me to get rid of you. No matter how aggravating you may be, there is nothing that I would ever trade you for.”

EVEN IF SOMEHOW YOU FOUND A CURE FOR YOUR CURSE?

“Not even that, bud. And now that I know we can survive every month, there is nothing that you could do to make me get rid of you. You understand?” Eddie pulled Venom’s face towards his so their noses were pressed together

YES, EDDIE.

“Good. Now let’s get dressed and head back into town. I’m hungry for something other than bear.

SO WHEN IS THE NEXT FULL MOON?

#venom #symbrock #veddie #fic #my art

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satans-helper · 5 years

Text

I’m So Tired

Pairing: Danny Wagner x (F) Reader

Word Count: 2427

Warnings: none

**This is the first fanfic I’ve ever posted on tumblr but if you feel so inclined to check out more of my stuff, here’s my wattpad.**

“I’m So Tired” - The Beatles

You were just tired. Tired of being given mixed signals; tired of being strung along; tired of opening your heart up just to have it kicked around. You told yourself you were done–done with trying to make things work when they just weren’t and done with letting yourself get hurt by someone who didn’t care as much as you did.

You were tired but you still forced yourself to get up on your day off versus lying in bed, scrolling mindlessly on your phone and tossing and turning under the covers, as tempting as that was. You knew you needed to be productive–you always felt better when you were busy. Besides, a clean home equaled a clean mind, right?

It did help, picking up all your clothes from your bedroom floor and folding them, putting them in their respective drawers and on hangers to wait in the dark. You even felt a little rejuvenated so you decided to dust everything; then you cleaned all the windows, shining away the streaks so the glass shone in all the afternoon sun; you vacuumed; you cleaned the inside of the fridge; you kept going until there was nothing else to clean.

With nothing else to clean–nothing else to do–you sat down in the middle of the floor, suddenly feeling exhausted and depleted, your mind still swimming with all the words. All the words you wasted and all the words he failed to tell you. Worse–the words he told you that felt like they dug a knife right into your core.

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t fight the frenzied feelings alone this time. But you had talked endlessly to your friends about what was going on and they didn’t understand–they were having a good time seemingly all the time. They told you to move on, that he wasn’t worth it, that you needed to just have fun. They just didn’t get it. It wasn’t that easy for you even if it was that easy for them.

Still, you really didn’t want to be alone.

You scrolled through the contacts in your phone, glancing over the names and vetoing them all in your head. You went back up to do it all over again, the insidious feeling of hopelessness growing in your gut.

Danny. Danny, with the tiny music note emoji next to his name. You liked Danny–you hadn’t seen him in a while since he was often busy with his band, but occasionally you ran into each other and, back in the day, you two had even shared some quality time. Sometimes still he would send you a random text here or there but what always made you smile was when he would send you a song. You two would send links back and forth, texting about the different songs, genres, musicians, everything, analyzing the lyrics and going over the tonal changes and guitar riffs. No one in your life understood you and music like Danny did.

You put your phone down–you didn’t feel like you could text him for no reason. You guys always talked about music so that would have to be the reason. You waded in your own thoughts for a few minutes, trying to think of something, and then you got it–Danny loved The Beatles.

You took a chance–you texted him asking if he wanted to come over and watch the new John Lennon documentary–and were surprised at how quickly he texted back. Even more surprised when he agreed to the plan.

Your body felt a little stiff as you got up from the floor and, when you went to the bathroom to look at yourself in the mirror, you sighed. The sweatpants, sweatshirt, and your hair in a messy top-knot weren’t necessarily doing you any favors but you didn’t feel too compelled to change–so you compromised, swapping your sweatpants out for jeans and calling it a day.

The vibration from your phone sent butterflies to your stomach–Danny was outside. Suddenly you felt very aware of yourself and your surroundings and you had to remind yourself that it was just Danny. You just wanted to relax and that was it and he was easy to relax around, even if you did feel butterflies then.

When you opened the door he already had a smile on his face which only grew when he saw you. “Hey,” he said, not hesitating to wrap his arms around you.

“Hey,” you said back, returning the gesture, albeit a little awkwardly. Still, his strong arms felt nice around you, and his skin was warm even through the chill of autumn evening.

You led him inside, grateful to yourself that you’d cleaned so diligently all day, all the while admiring your seldom-seen friend–Danny’s hair had gotten longer and the ends led to a few necklaces laid against his chest, one being a big silver peace symbol. It made you smile a little to yourself. You didn’t fail to notice the changes with his body either–drumming had clearly allowed for some serious muscle growth–the muscles of his biceps tensed against his sleeves.

“I’m surprised you haven’t watched this already,” you said, shutting the door, tearing your eyes away from his arms.

“I didn’t even know about it,” Danny said. “Until you told me.” He was still standing, somewhat awkwardly, in the middle of your living room, both of his hands in his pockets.

“You can sit,” you said, smiling, and gestured at the couch.

He smiled back, a little bashfully, and did so, settling down on your couch.

“Want anything to drink?” you asked.

“Uh–anything is fine.”

You nodded to yourself, grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge and making your way back to the couch, sitting down at the other end.

“I would offer you something more exciting,” you said, handing him the water. “But I don’t have anything more exciting.”

“That’s okay,” Danny assured you. “Water can be exciting.”

From then on it was silence apart from the documentary–neither you or Danny even drank the water unless one of you did first, and you both had your eyes glued to the screen. You were mostly glad to just have some company and Danny was comfortable, he was solid. But the video footage of John and Yoko got to you–they were so in sync, so in love, so brilliant together.

You could feel your heart sinking as you kept watching. You wished you could have that with someone. You wished you hadn’t tried to be that for someone when they couldn’t have been bothered. Tears formed in your eyes and you sat there, rigid, and tried not to lose control.

You cleared your throat and wiped at your eyes, hoping Danny wouldn’t notice, but he turned to you.

“You okay?” he asked softly, regarding you with uncertainty.

“Yeah, sorry,” you replied, going for your water.

Danny looked at you sympathetically. “What’s up?”

You sighed. “I just–” you started to say but stopped yourself. Danny didn’t need to hear about all of it. You were trying to get your mind off everything, not dump it all on someone you hadn’t seen in months. “Nothing, I’m fine,” you said, sitting up straighter against the back of the couch and returning your eyes to the TV.

Danny looked at you a couple seconds longer but then turned back to the documentary. It didn’t take long before you felt even more tears threatening to overflow and your chin was quivering. Maybe you would have been better off alone that night–you felt like such a mess.

The tears spilled over, trailing down your cheeks in hot, wet streaks and you lifted your arm up again to wipe them away with your sleeve, but you sniffled again and Danny immediately turned back to you.

He moved closer to you, sitting on the center cushion, and gingerly placed his hand on your shoulder. “Hey, Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asked, even more softly than he had before.

You felt ridiculous. “I’m sorry, Danny,” you said, fighting back more tears. “Today just–today sucked.”

“What happened?” Danny asked, his hand still on your shoulder.

You could sense his body close to yours and it felt nice to have even that bit of physical contact, so much so that you resisted the urge to lean into it.

“I just feel so stupid,” you confessed and, when Danny didn’t press you for an explanation, you continued: “I really liked this guy. I liked him a lot. We hung out all the time, talked all the time.”

You paused, wanting to look at Danny but feeling unable to. “I thought he liked me. I told him I liked him and he kind of just–just didn’t say anything at first,” you went on. “So I let it go, but then he kept giving me all these signals–he would touch me and tell me how much he cared. He treated me like I–like I meant something. But he just led me on–he did all these things but he didn’t wanna be with me. He never did.”

You stopped then, still sniffling a little, wanting to just curl completely into yourself and go to sleep, but Danny moved his hand from your shoulder and gently rubbed the space between your shoulder blades.

“I’m really sorry,” he said and you could hear the sincerity in his voice. “That does really suck.”

You laughed a little, nodding your head. “Yeah, it does suck.”

“Can I give you a hug?” Danny asked.

You nodded again, grateful for his consideration and his kindness, and turned your body to the side so you could face him. He wrapped his arms around you, one over your shoulders and the other cradling your back. You rested your face on his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his hair as it brushed against your nose.

Danny pulled back first though he kept his hands on your shoulders, bracing you gently. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, it’s okay,” you replied, sort of wishing he had kept his arms around you. “I’m okay. I just wanted company tonight. I know we don’t hang out that much. I’m sorry if this is awkward.”

Danny gave you a comforting smile. “I was excited when you texted me.”

Your heart fluttered. “Really?

“Yeah, you and I always talk about music. Who better to watch this with?”

You smiled. “Good, I’m glad. I didn’t have anyone else to watch this with anyway.”

Danny smiled back at you and reached down to squeeze your hand. “I’m around,” he said. “If you ever wanna do something like this. Or just listen to some records. Whatever.”

If only everyone were as sweet as Danny, you thought, trying to not to gaze at him too obviously. He really was the sweetest–you could see it in his face. You could see it in the softness of his own gaze back at you. You could see it in his smile, which was real.

“It’s getting kind of late now,” Danny noted and you felt your heart drop yet again, anticipating him leaving, but then he asked, “Are you hungry?”

It had been a long time since anyone, let alone a guy, treated you with that much consideration. You weren’t sure if you were going to laugh or cry again but thankfully you were able to simply smile again, looking at the floor.

“I am kinda hungry,” you admitted, looking back at him. “But I don’t have a lot here, honestly.”

Danny tilted his head back, one corner of his mouth raising slightly, and he laughed a little. “Come on, doll, you’re not cooking anything tonight,” he said and pulled out his phone. “What sounds good?”

Doll? You might has well have been dreaming.

“Uh–well, anything, really,” you stammered. “What do you want?”

Danny looked at you, his hair falling into his face a little. “You tell me what you want.”

Chinese was your go-to comfort food. Just you, a bunch of take-out boxes, the couch and the TV and you were on your way to recovery. Maybe Danny being there would be even better.

“Chinese?” you proposed.

Danny nodded in approval.

“Hang on, let me get some cash,” you said, starting to get up from the couch.

“Wait, Y/N,” Danny replied quickly. “I’m treating you.”

You paused, one foot on the floor, one leg still tucked on the couch. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You invited me over, you showed me this documentary,” Danny explained. “You had a terrible day. Let me get this.”

You slowly sat back down, feeling a little overwhelmed by his generosity yet entirely grateful. The hard, jagged emotions swirled in your gut again and you felt overwhelmed once more until Danny settled back down next to you.

“Just tell me what you want,” he said and laid his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers grazing your shoulder.

You laughed a little, leaning back. “I wish everyone was as nice as you.”

Danny turned to look at you, his lips turning upward slightly into a smile, a pink hue radiating from his cheeks. He looked embarrassed even as he leaned forward, removing his arm from behind you, and turning to the side so his temples and cheekbone were lost in a cascade of his hair.

You took it as an opportunity to study his face–the slight slope from between his dark, thick brows to the bridge of his nose, a distinct curve which led to the soft pink of his cupid’s bow. His turned cheek only gave you a better view of the smooth, slightly glistening sheen from his cheekbone peeking through his hair and his long, dark lashes casting tiny shadows on his skin.

Danny was a beautiful person to look at, no doubt, but you found him even more beautiful that night, with his unwavering tenderness and warmth.

“You’re sweet,” he said when he turned back, his eyes glimmering as he smiled again.

As Danny sat back again, placing his arm behind you once more, you felt your heart rate slow and your body relax little by little. You let yourself lean into his side, almost cradled in his arm. It was nice to sit with someone and feel their warmth radiating from their body into yours, cascading you in the comfort that you had so desperately needed. It was just nice to be cared for.

“Thanks for coming over,” you said, causing his attention to turn away from the menu on his phone. “Having you here helped a lot.”

“Anytime, doll,” Danny said softly, gently pulling you closer to him.

For @saywecanart, I hope I did you proud :)

#danny wagner #danny x reader #gvf #greta van fleet #fluff #?#i want danny to cuddle me #and call me doll #gvf fic #take a shot every time you see the word shoulder #greta van fan fiction

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emoboijk · 5 years

Text

MYG | Lo-Fi Beats (01)

Lo-Fi: an aesthetic of recorded music in which the sound quality is lower than the usual contemporary standards so that imperfections of the recording and production are audible.—fluff, angst, idol!au

prologue :: 01 :: 02 :: 03 :: 04 :: 05 :: 06 :: epilogue

1,571 words

p.cred

Yoongi winced, holding the steaming cup of hot chocolate away from him as if it could bite. “It’s hot,” he whined.

“Yeah,” you giggled, sipping at your own cup tentatively. He glared at you playfully before looking out at the river. The peace lasted nearly a minute before he wiggled against the cool seat of the bench.

“It’s cold,” he grumbled, “Why are we out here? Is Namjoon rubbing off on you?”

You rolled your eyes, “If he’s rubbing off on me it can only be a good thing. Besides, hot chocolate is better in the cold.”

“Fuck no, it isn’t,” Yoongi grumbled, taking a sip of his cocoa anyway.

“Also because you needed a break from the studio.”

He didn’t argue, he didn’t shoot back at you with a witty comment, he just sighed and took another drink of his cocoa, enjoying the sun and even the cold and especially your company. It felt good to stretch his legs and breathe fresh air, or any air really that didn’t smell like old coffee and stale laundry.

Your phone buzzed against your side and you pulled it out to check. Yoongi, feeling more comfortable now, adjusting to the outside world, pressed himself into your side to read over your shoulder.

“Who’s Beomseok?” he squinted down at the small Hangul lettering like an interrogator at a criminal.

You smiled slightly, coughing almost awkwardly so that a puff of air appeared in front of your face, your cheeks going pink. A pang of jealousy hit Yoongi’s chest like an arrow.

“He’s just this new security guy at BigHit that Minji has a crush on,” you shook your head, “She falls so easily,” you mused, a laugh developing in your throat at the foolish antics of your best friend.

Yoongi smiled, relaxing back into the bench and drinking his cocoa smugly.

“So,” you grinned, turning to face him, “Have you written me a song today?”

Yoongi shrugged, smirking because this was his favorite game, “I don’t know, I’d have to be in my studio to tell you.”

“Not fair,” you whined, hitting his chest lightly, but smiling nonetheless, “Min Yoongi you promised me when we were six you’d write a song for me every day.”

“Being with you is writing a song for you,” he said. A pause. A desperate scramble in his pockets, the scratching of ink against his paper cup. A muttered, “I’m going to use that.”

You shook your head, smiling as you pushed your hair out of your eyes and sipped your cocoa, pride beaming in your chest like a radiator.

When you got back to BigHit, the place was as you normally found it: bustling. Lots of activity, people moving decisively on their way to meetings and appointments. You nodded your head to those you recognized—staff members milling about, the receptionist and security guards, all those who had seen you come and go at Yoongi’s side for years, and who now recognized you as a fellow employee—as you crossed the room to the security check.

Yoongi breezed through the checkpoint with a flick of his pass-card across the gate and slid through the revolving bars with ease. You paused at the check-point, smiling warmly at the middle-aged ahjussi in the guard’s uniform a little ways down. You dug into your purse to pull out the heavily stickered pass-card Yoongi had given you nearly three years ago—before you’d officially been hired—when BigHit had changed buildings. It had seen better days, but the screen lit green and the bars revolved as you pushed through them.

“What’s your next schedule?” you asked Yoongi, joining him by the elevator bay. Yoongi clenched his eyes shut, a little wrinkle above his nose as he thought about it.

“Rehearsal?” he wondered, “Or maybe a meeting with Bang-sajangnim? I have some writing I need to do today, and I have to record that guide for tomorrow...” he trailed off, pulling his phone from his pocket and swiping through it like second nature. You peered over his shoulder nosily.

“Ooh, free time until one-thirty,” you grinned.

“Yeah, but ‘free time’ doesn’t mean ‘free time.’ It means—” he paused, the doors opening to Taehyung and a group of staff members.

“Noona!” Tae cheered, diving out of the elevator boldly, leaving a group of bemused staff in his wake. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders heavily and squeezed you to his side.

“Tae-Tae,” you smiled, “Headed out?”

He nodded, his smile wide and boxy, making his whole face glow. “Stylist-noona is taking me to get a new hair color,” he shrugged. You smiled at Jiwoo from over his shoulder; she was rolling her eyes. The boys had started calling her “stylist-noona” since their debut days and had not once let it go.

You tousled the back of his hair, pouting, “Your poor head,” and at the same time he said, “Hanging out with Min-Grumpy today?”

You smiled and joked, “Trying to.”

Yoongi grumbled to himself. He stepped past the staff members hovering nervously around Taehyung (he was known to be a bit of a flight risk—not intentionally, of course, he just got...distracted), and said, “I’m leaving now.”

“Bye, ahjussi!” you joked again, waving to him as the elevator doors closed.

“Oh,” Taehyung said, frowning, “I’m already late.”

“Which means you’re right on time,” you said, squeezing his shoulder playfully and ducking out from his crowd, “I have to head downstairs anyway.”

“Bye noona!” he said, waving at you absently as something else already caught his eye. You chuckled and walked a few paces to the elevator that went as far as the basement. The basement, you had quickly learned, was where all of the important stuff was—the member’s individual studios, the producer’s offices, the recording booths, and, of course, the video editing office (where you worked).

You piled into the small space with a few other people, pressing close to the wall to take up less room. You raised your hand to hit the button for the basement and found that it was already lit. You raised your eyebrows and scanned the compartment—no one you recognized. Weird.

Just as you were about to pull out your cell phone you locked eyes with a stranger. He was tall, over six foot, with a sweep of dark hair across his forehead and a small smirk on his lips. His eyes were dark, and he’d taken his sunglasses off and put them on top of his head to look at you. You felt slightly possessed by the look in his eyes—a predatory danger that made you shiver, an uncomfortable feeling running down your spine as you sought refuge in your cell phone.

You had four messages:

Jiwoo: Taehyung escaped.

Jiwoo: Already.

Yoongi: I bought you a coffee. You’re welcome.

With a picture of a coffee cup from the cart in the basement, perched on your desk (recognizable by the photo of you with BTS pre-debut and the small Shooky plush leaning against it) with a message scribbled in his tight handwriting: Thanks for the cocoa. Coffee is better. —Min Grumpy

You smiled broadly at the image, your lips turning downward as you saw the last message:

Jihoon: Bang-sajangnim wants to meet with us this afternoon. Fill you in when you get back.

You frowned. Usually, when Bang wanted to meet with your team it was to shorten a deadline or introduce a new project. And all without considering the limited amount of staff.

“Bad news?” a voice said.

You looked up, noticing that the dispersal of people had now shifted in the elevator. The stranger was leaning over you, his arm against the wall, watching you with the same smirk as before.

You opened your mouth to say something, you weren’t sure what, when the doors dinged open. You ducked out from underneath him and followed the mass of people from the elevator.

Both Jihoon and Minji were waiting for you a few feet from the doors, and you walked to them like seeking shelter. You twisted to look back and found the stranger staring at you, a group of people ushering him in the opposite direction.

“Girl, how many cups of coffee is Min Yoongi going to buy you before he finally asks you out?” Minji giggled.

You rolled your eyes and pushed her playfully, turning your gaze back to the stranger again, “Who is that?”

They both followed your eyes and watched as he disappeared behind an office door with his entourage.

Jihoon shrugged, “I don’t know, but he looks kind of familiar.”

“He’s hot,” Minji said, causing you both to giggle light-heartedly.

“Come on,” Jihoon said pulling you towards your office, “We have a lot to do before the meeting with Bang-sajangnim. I want to get further on the new BTS documentary segments from 2018, and I’d like to finish the Bangtan Bombs we’ve been working on, and if you could finish translating the last two Run BTS episodes…”

“Woah, calm down,” Minji said, “We only have a couple of hours.”

“Yeah, there’s no use freaking out about it. We’ll do our best,” you said, squeezing his shoulder, “Besides, I finished translating those episodes yesterday, I just have to get everything entered in.”

“Oh,” Jihoon said, clasping his heart as you all walked through the doorway of the office, “You’re an angel.”

“Well,” you said, forming a mock halo with your fingers above your head and shrugging.

author’s note—grumpy but soft yoongi is just...perfect

02: meetings ↝

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karenpage · 5 years

Note

Frank meets Karen’s dad: How does it go?

@sail-not-drift

Vermont’s cold. Not New York street cold but bone-chilling, freeze your ass off, cold. Jack Frost’s got his claws dug in deep and shit, shit just breathing hurts out here, like his lungs are filling up on ice and it burns on the way in as much as it does when he exhales. Plumes of steam from Frank’s breath hang around his face, squinting through it as the sun mocks, glares off the snow and does absolutely nothing to warm him. Even dressed in black, in fifteen god damned layers, Frank Castle would rather be holed up in the Syrian desert with IEDs and mortar fire.

He knows what to do with war, at least. With the hot stink of death and rot and the way it clotted with bloodied sand until he spat it out, a fire-fights quick-dry cement.

He has no fucking idea what to do here.

Fagan Corners is small enough to spit across and the buildings look tired, sagging from decades of exposure to the elements - the trees are sparse near the town’s center, and there aren’t mountains close enough to shield the worst of the wind. It kicks up, Frank swears in a gruff whisper, but the snow crunching under his boots drowns it out. Not that he’d really try and complain. He knows that his five-minute tactical assessment of Karen’s hometown doesn’t give him any sort of advantage headed into the unknown.

They’re walking, her hand wrapped in his and shoved into the front pocket of his sweatshirt. He’s a little less cold when he’s focused, zoned in until the world has fallen away except for the clear-cut path. The plan. The mission.

Some kids pass them, huddled around a cell-phone and laughing at some dumb YouTube crap, but Karen startles when they shove on by. Like their joy is gunfire and so Frank just holds her closer. He doesn’t know shit about her, about her past; not like his, which has been dug up, exploited, given a post-mortem so every dumb son of a bitch who’d watched a War Documentary can chime in on what he went through.

Think they know him. Not like Karen does, she’d seen the ugly, the blood the gore, the grief and he wonders if it’s love or collateral. How you get to be this close to someone as damaged as he is and not get some part of you hooked, broken off. Shrapnel buried deeper than even a seasoned Marine knew how to dig out.

Shit though, what he knows about Karen can be measured in the hand that holds hers all the same.

She’s remained a mystery in that, holed up in the bunker of her ache and Frank’s patient. He’d wait until she gave him anything. Wouldn’t pry it from her, wouldn’t make demands.

And when Karen had asked him three weeks ago to go home… he’d made a fool of himself, stumbling over his words just to say yeah, of course.

So here they are, in the trenches and he’s going in blind.

Karen’s been leading him around town, quiet, occasionally commenting on landmarks that meant something to her, from her childhood. The only movie theater where some fumbling freshman boy had tried to get her bra off in the middle of Armageddon. Or the curb she’d fallen off, twisted her ankle, and the ice cream shop across the street from it her mom took her to every day that summer because she couldn’t go swimming with Kevin or her friends.

Frank nods, smiling a little; it’s slow. The Thaw. But she’s coming around when they pass the post-office and the corkboard outside is tacked with article clippings from the High School’s newspaper - Karen had written for them, her first real journalistic endeavor.

“Had a knack for it, huh?” His voice is rough from disuse and Karen just smiles at him crookedly, using her free hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

“I guess. It earned me a spot at Georgetown, studied English.” She kicks some snow, watches it melt on contact with the heated fender of a parked car. Frank nods - didn’t know that, either. Makes sense, honestly, he’d read every article she’d put out at the Bulletin and each one was better than the last.

Won’t tell her that the one she’d written about him was taped to the inside of his lunchbox, or how worn the edges of the paper were from running his fingers over it.

More walking, more small talk.

They stop for coffee - Karen says it wasn’t a Starbucks fourteen years ago and yeah, there’s modernization on the edge of the old town. Or an attempt at it. Orders his black, the barista looks at him like that’s a Capitol Offense.

“It’s Vermont. They think salt is spicy,” she reminds him, stirring some cinnamon and nutmeg into her cup. No sweetener, and when she catches the confused look etched onto Frank’s mug she blushes. “– it tastes good. Shut up.”

He just ducks his head, hiding the amusement in his eyes and wrinkling his nose as he chokes down his drink.

Now her hand in his is shaking, her palm is clammy and he takes no offense when she draws it away, wipes it off on her thigh and reaches for him again, filling the empty spaces between his fingers with practiced ease.

Their path turns off from the pavement, and gravel gives way when they step off the sidewalk and turn down an unmarked road. At the end, a white and blue building with a sign that’s barely intact, ‘Penny’s Diner’. Eviction notices, ugly red tape that says condemned, paper the sides of it, but Karen’s unflinching.

As if part of her had expected exactly that.

Frank’s just a guard dog, got his leash caught between his teeth as he trails warily behind Karen - she knows the way, so it makes objective sense that he falls to her six. Doesn’t mean he likes letting her go anyplace before him. It’s tactical training, and something else. Felt that obligation gnaw at the back of his skull: gotta keep her safe.

What place is safer than some sleepy little town in the heart of Vermont?

Circling around back, a mailbox with Page scrawled in a child’s handwriting marks the start of a dirt driveway, curling behind an outcropping of pine trees. Stoic, blue-green soldiers hiding the modest house behind them.

Karen stops about halfway, her eyes wet with tears but there’s a stubbornness to it, like she’s got something to prove by setting her jaw, sniffling, and carrying on. She won’t let them fall. But Frank’s ready to wipe them away if they do all the same.

Frank hangs back a little, lets her climb the three stairs, lets her open the screen and – the moment, the beat, the breath before her knuckles rap against the blue front door. Robin’s egg blue, he thinks, and when Karen turns to look at him, motioning with her chin for him to join her, he realizes that this blue, much like the blue of the diner, is the same color as her eyes.

He swallows and soldiers forward, steps heavy, the wood of the deck groans underneath his added weight.

He’s alert, eyes narrowed, jumping to tally every movement around them. A squirrel rushes out of the bushes, climbs the little picket fence jutting out of the side of the house, and disappears. Frank shifts his weight from foot to foot - there’s movement inside the house, but no one answers the door.

It’s quiet after that in the way that nature is, makes Frank’s palms itch.

Birds chatter and the needly fingers of the spruce trees sway with every angry gust of wind. Some brush across the roof, others just tangle with their neighbor and catch the first few raindrops before they hit the tops of their heads. Fat, cold, the kind of rain that’s not yet snow but it’s trying to be.

“We should go,” Karen’s teeth chatter, the rain picks up so he holds her tight - the thin lip of an awning over the front door keeps them dry, but only just.

Frank wraps his arms around her shoulders, looks over them, where the blinds part and a pair of eyes watches - disappearing as soon as they’re spotted.

Son of a bitch.

“Nah, see… see you did the right thing. You came here, an’ no matter what he said it is your home. You have that right.” His is ashes. Red edges in on the perimeter of his vision and he only holds Karen that much tighter, keeps the tide of his rage at bay.

Karen sniffs, he knows that she’s crying but he won’t add insult to injury by commenting on it. He strokes his fingers through the edge of her hair and then, with one hand stroking up and down her back, he balls the other into a fist and pounds on that door again.

“Know you’re in there,” a growl.

Karen draws away, looks up at him to hurriedly whisper, “Frank what are you doing–”

The door swings open and Paxton’s staring them down, well, if the shock that washes over Karen’s face tells him anything - it’s what’s left of the man she’d known as her dad.

Frank’s stomach churns; what he wouldn’t give to have his child at the door. What he wouldn’t give to even see Lisa or Frankie again. He swallows down the hot bile rising up the back of his throat and stares Karen’s father down.

“Karen I -” his words are slow, slurred. A drunk. She flinches visibly and Frank’s upper lip curls. “I told you not to come.”

“Yeah, yeah you did.” But she doesn’t care, that much is obvious and despite the tension and painful discomfort of the situation, Frank feels just a little bit of pride. Atta girl. “But the thing is, Dad, the thing is you pushed me away. Shut me out and – I was alone, in New York. I found people and I kept going but you took away my right to mourn and I’ve spent over a decade trying to figure out how to let all this… all this loneliness, out of me. But I come home, I come home and you’ve just drunk it all away. Mom died, and you did nothing. Kevin died and you were all I had left, I was all you had and and —”

She has to stop, Paxton hasn’t moved, hasn’t reacted aside from the hand on the doorframe beginning to shake. Frank won’t rule that out as a byproduct of the vodka on his breath, though. His own fingers tighten against the back of Karen’s shirt. An anchor to keep him from lashing out.

Her dad just – he moves to shut the door and without thinking, Frank shoves his arm out, the pain of it being caught between the heavy wood and metal frame doesn’t bother him in the least.

Karen’s turned away, rushed down the short flight of stairs to cry freely, he wouldn’t fault her for an inch of her mile-long hurt.

Frank doesn’t get it, so he’s got Paxton’s sweat-stained shirt balled up between the white of his fisted knuckles and he draws him forward, speaks in that snarled, low rumble that makes his whole frame radiate rage.

“See, I don’t get you.” Spittle catches on the corner of his lip, “Both my kids… both of them. They were taken from me and shit– shit I made sure the people responsible paid for it. I hunted them down like animals. ‘Cuz they were. They were animals but they’re all dead now and I don’t feel better. Doesn’t… didn’t bring them back an’ I’m not sorry for what I’ve done but they were monsters, you see? They … they were bad people who did bad things. But you..” Frank shakes his head, shaking Paxton by the hold he has on him.

“You lost your son and it was a tragedy. There is nothing that takes away the hurt of having to bury your flesh and blood. Buying a tombstone for your baby is the worst kinda hell there is but you – you lost one kid and threw the other one away and I get it. I get… I get that you blame her and shit I’d have been just as angry but the thing is.. The thing is, is that people screw up and people like Karen? They hold that coal in their hand for the rest of their life. She’s done good, she’s… she’s saved lives, you know? And you chose not to be a part of that. I don’t get … Karen’s the best thing okay? The best thing to happen to me since… since all the good was taken from me. And she asked me to come here because shit, maybe she though havin’ me around would make her brave but she’s always been braver than me. Karen sees the shit she’s done and holds herself accountable. I just try and lock it up. Try and keep me separate and you know what.” Those last three words are grit out, caught on his teeth so he throws Paxton down, kicking the door the rest of the way open as he scrambles backward on his hands and heels, reaching for the phone.Frank grabs it out of his hands, rips it out of the wall, “No. No I’m not gonna do nothin’ and you’re not gonna call the cops on me or Karen and you’re gonna wallow.” He kneels, looks that man right in the eyes, the vein in his jaw twitching, “You’re gonna spend the rest of your days knowing that you missed out. That you had … you had a chance to be a good man. A good father and you let your hate win out. Now listen to me–” He ducks his head, can hear Karen rush back up out of fear - he won’t hurt Paxton Page. As god as his witness he wanted to, wanted to beat the miserable slump into a bloody pulp but he can’t do that to Karen.

“We’re gonna leave. And you’re gonna forget we came. You’re gonna make a choice. Either rot in your god damned filth, drink the rest of yourself away. Or you’re gonna… you’re gonna get help. Because the shit that happens to us ain’t our fault but what you do.. What you do with what you’re given is. If you decide to get your shit together. If you choose to live. You can beg Karen to maybe forgive you, and I maybe won’t put a bullet in your head.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, doesn’t want to hear what he’d have to say. Frank stands, feels Karen reach for him.

Two hands.

“Let’s go home,” her voice is even and despite the tears in her eyes, Karen’s offering Frank a weak smile.

And they do. They leave.

Karen tells him, her head on his shoulder as they pull out of the Essex station; the train humming to life underneath them… tells him, “No one’s ever put my da–Paxton Page in his place before. It was…. Did you mean what you said to him?” Like she can’t really believe it.

That she is anyone’s Best Thing.“Every word.”

#asks #kastle #kastle ff #kastle fanfic #kastlenetwork #*writing #KJNDFGKJSFNGKJSDFNKJSDFNKSJDNF #i'm so sorry #alcoholism tw #alcohol tw #death mention #sail-not-drift #long post for ts #long post #THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT #2.5K WORDS LATER-

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